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THE LIFE 



OF 



ROBERT POLLOK, 




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Died Ib^ Sep 1 1827 aged 23. 



THE LIFE 



OF 



ROBERT POLLOK 



AUTHOR OF " THE COURSE OF TIME." 



BY HIS BROTHER 

DAVID POLLOK A.M. 



WITH SELECTIONS FROM HIS MANUSCRIPTS. 



WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 

EDINBURGH AND LONDON. 
M.DCCC.XLIII. 






EDINBURGH: PBINTED BY BALLAXTYNE AND HUGHES, 
PAUL'S WORK, CANONGATE. 

Gift. 



MR. HUTCHESON. 
f?Je'05 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

His Birth, Parentage, and Boyhood — Early development of Charac- 
ter — Education — First attempts at Rhyme — Resolves on Studying for 
the Ministry — Commencement of his Classical Education — First Poet- 
ical Productions — Residence at Horsehill — Progress in Latin — Personal 
Appearance. Page 1. 

CHAPTER II. 

His First Session at College — Classes attended during it — College 
Exercises in Verse — Commencement of Acquaintance with Robert 
Poliok of Buckhaven — And with David Marr — His Employments 
during the Vacation — Continuation of College Life — Ode to Moor- 
house — Favourite Haunts there — His Note-Book — Third Session — Let- 
ter to his Cousin — Descriptive Essay — First Prize — Acquires the 
French Language 23. 

CHAPTER III. 

State of his Health — Visit to Dublin — Letters to his brother — Ex- 
tracts from his Commonplace Book — Essay on the External Senses — 
His Juvenile Poetry — Fourth Session at College — First Year at the 
Moral Philosophy Class^Translation of the CEdipus — Address for a 
Missionary Society. . 46. 

CHAPTER IV. 

" Discussion on Compositional Thinking " — Letters to his Brother — 
And to his Cousin — Death of his Uncle — And Letters regarding it. 

76. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 



Last Session at College — His Assiduity and Perseverance — Monody 
on the Death of a Classfellow — Lines to Envy— Literary Society, 
and Essay read before it — Takes his Degree of Master of Arts — Extracts 
from his Papers — His Social Habits in Glasgow. . . Page 97 



CHAPTER VI. 

Letter to his Brother after leaving College— Commences the Study 
of Theology — Writes his First Sermon — Letter to David Marr — 
Thoughts on Man in Verse— Letter to Robert Pollok, on taking his 
Degree of A.M.— Address for a Bible Society. . . . 132. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Joins the Fellowship of the Church — First Session at the Divinity 
Hall — His First Discourse there — Its Reception by the Students — 
Letter from Mr Williamson regarding him — " The British Poets" — 
Milton— Singular Dream—" Helen of the Glen "—His Facility of Com- 
position — Serves in the Renfrewshire Yeomanry — His Discourses at 
the Hall — Address on Preaching — Publication of " Helen of the Glen." 

190. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Letter to his Brother — Visit to Auchindinny — And to Bullion Green, 
&c. — Letters from Edinburgh — And after his Return to Glasgow — 
" Ralph Gemmell " and " The Persecuted Family " — His sudden Illness, 
and Letters regarding it — Lines on his Sister's Death — Letters regard- 
ing the Publication of his Two Tales — Employments at Moorhouse — 
Visit to Girvan — Letter from Pollok of Buckhaven regarding him — 
And from Himself to his Brother — Returns to the Hall — His Discourse 
there — Criticism on it by Dr Ferrier — Enters the Divinity Hall of Glas- 
gow University — Publication of his Tales 215. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Autobiographical Letter— Letters to his Brother— Meditates and 
commences " The Course of Time " — Letters on his Mother's last Illness 
and Death— Progress of his Poem— His Fourth Session at the Hall- 
Visit to Loch Lomond— Letters to his Brother. . . 252. 



CONTENTS. iii 



CHAPTER X. 

Again Vists Auchindinny— Letters relating to " The Course of Time " 
—Its Completion, and Letter Announcing it— His Mode of Composition 
—His other Occasional Poetry — Extracts from his Commonplace Book 
—Notes for "The Course of Time"— His Fifth Session at the Hall- 
Letter from Dr King regarding him — Sermons — His Habits. Page 283. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Leaves the Hall — Visit to Dunfermline — Transcription of his Poem 
for the Press — Letter to his Father — Enters on Trials for License — 
Letter to Mr Blackwood — The Publication agreed on — Introduction to 
Professor Wilson — Letters to his Father — Projected Prose Work — 
Publication of " The Course*of Time " — The Manuscripts of it — His Trial 
Discourses — Letter to his Pather — " Serious Thought." . 312. 

CHAPTER XII. 

His first Public Sermon — Visit to Slateford — Preaches there — Letter 
to his Pather — His Last Sermon — Letters — Commencement of his Ill- 
ness — Letters to his Father regarding it — Proposal for his going to 
Italy — Voyage to Aberdeen — Letters from thence — Returns to Edin- 
burgh — Letter from thence to his Father — His Last Visit to Moor- 
house — Trust-deed— Letter to Miss Mather — Charge regarding his 
Manuscripts 333. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

His Departure from Moorhouse — His Parting with his Father and 
Brother — Letter from Dr King regarding him — And from the Students 
of the Divinity Hall to him — Arrival at Edinburgh — Portrait of him — 
Goes to Slateford — Letter from Pollok of Buckhaven — Last Correc- 
tions of " The Course of Time " — Returns to Edinburgh — Attentions of 
Sir John Sinclair to him — His Will — Letters of introduction for London 
and Italy — His Departure for London — The Voyage — His Arrival 
there — Last Letter to his Brother — Secures his Passage to Leghorn — 
Letters to the Theological Students — To his Father — And to Dr Bel- 
frage — Is Dissuaded from going to Italy 361. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Leaves London for Southampton — His Increasing Weakness — Medi- 
cal Attendants — Visitors — Becomes aware of the hopelessness of Reco- 



IV CONTENTS. 

very— Last Letter to his Father— State of his Mind— His Last Hours- 
Death and Burial — Letter from Dr Brown to Mr Pirie — From 
Mr Pirie to his Sister — And from Dr Brown to his Father — Letters to 
his Father regarding him— His Monument— His Manuscripts, Page 385. 

POEMS. 

Ode to Moorhouse — A Hymn — David's Lamentation over Saul 
and Jonathan — Christ's Resurrection — The Distressed] Christian to 
his Soul — A Tale — Spring Returned — Jane — The Weeping Maid — 
To Agnes — To Mr David Marr and Friends — On Receiving the Works 
of Spencer — The African Maid — Helen's Grave — The Crow Stone — Mal- 
lena — Old Age — To Darkness — To Melancholy — To Agnella — The 
Child — Invitation — Liberty, a Fragment 405. 



THE LIFE 



ROBERT POLLOK, A.M. 



CHAPTER I. 

Robert Pollok was born on Friday, the 19th day of 
October 1798, at North Moorhouse, in the parish of Eagles- 
ham, in Renfrewshire, ten miles south from Glasgow. His 
father, John Pollok, was a farmer, first at North, and then 
at Mid, Moorhouse ; where his father and grandfather were 
farmers before him. 

His mother, Margaret Dickie, was a daughter of James 
Dickie and Margaret Gemmell of Horsehill, a small farm 
in the parish of Fenwick in Ayrshire. Three of her ma- -, 
ternal ancestry shared in the sufferings of the persecution in 
Scotland between 1660 and 1688. Her great-grandfather, 
David Gemmell of Horsehill,* escaped pursuit by fleeing to 

* The name of this family was Gemmell from an early period down to 
the middle of last century, when it hecame Dickie by the marriage of 
James Dickie and Margaret Gemmell. 

A 



2 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Ireland, and remaining there in exile for three years, du- 
ring which his land was confiscated ; John Gemmell, second 
brother to the former, was in 1685 sent in banishment to 
the island of Barbadoes, where he was held in slavery till 
the Revolution ; and Peter Gemmell, his youngest brother, 
was the same year apprehended by a troop of dragoons, and 
instantly shot.* 

Robert's grandfathers and grandmothers became Seceders 
at the commencement of the Secession from the Church of 
Scotland, in their respective counties, Renfrew and Ayr. 

His father and mother were both brought up Seceders, the 
one in the first Secession congregation in Renfrewshire, and 
the other in the first in Ayrshire. They were married in 
May 1780, and continued steadfast to their religious profes- 
sion, in doctrine, duty, and discipline ; living in observance 
of the ordinances of religion, and in all respects setting a 
Christian example. They had an inclination for reading and 
acquiring knowledge, and were reputed intelligent for their 
sphere. In personal character, his father had a good deal of 
calmness, self-possession, and equanimity; and his mother 
was distinguished by decision, promptitude, and resolution. 
With respect to their station and circumstances in life, they 
belonged to the class of small farmers ; and were what is 
usually called comfortable, but not wealthy. They had eight 
children, four sons and four daughters ; and of these eight, 
only four of whom are now alive, Robert, the subject of this 
narrative, was the youngest but one. 

Inheriting from his parents a sound constitution, bodily 
and mental, he was a fine, strong, lively infant. He was 
baptized when a few weeks old, in the Secession church 
* See Scots "Worthies, Life of Nisbet of Hardhill.— Note. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 3 

at Newton of Mearns, by the Rev. Andrew Thomson, his 
father's minister. He walked early, and spoke distinctly at 
a twelvemonth old. In his childhood, he was full of wit and 
humour ; and was noted especially for restless activity. 

His grand distinguishing characteristic, decision, united 
with resistless determination to gain his end, appeared early. 
I well recollect of him, when he was a child in petticoats, 
after he had got his first boy's dress, but before he was al- 
lowed to wear it daily, going up to his mother one day, when 
she was sewing in the kitchen, and saying to her, as he 
took his stand by her side, " Mother, I should get on my 
other clothes now." " You will get them on," she replied, 
in a tone of authority, raising her voice as she spoke, with- 
out looking at him — " you will get them on when these ones 
are done." The moment she said so, he left her side, without 
speaking a word, and walked straight into the room. In a 
few minutes, he came back slowly through the kitchen, and 
went out at the door, with his petticoat torn into a long 
narrow strip, winding out after him like a serpent.. Thus 
his end was gained: the petticoat was done, and the " other 
clothes " had to be " got on." 

Throughout life, it may be added, the same decision of 
character distinguished him. Whenever he was pushed, or 
in difficulty, he took high ground, and had recourse to deci- 
sive measures. Indeed, the child was the perfect miniature 
of the man; almost every thing that was ever developed 
in the man, being indicated more or less distinctly in the 
child. 

In his childhood, he was remarkably amiable, attractive, 
and engaging, and was thus a favourite with the whole 
family. He and I, it may be mentioned, as of some interest 



4: THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

now that I am his biographer, being next to one another in 
the family, were constant bedfellows and playfellows, and a 
companionship stronger than brotherhood was early formed 
between us, which grew closer and closer through life : 
" the soul of " the one " was knit with the soul of " the 
other, and each "loved" the other "as his own soul." 

The following instance of his affectionate disposition, in 
childhood, may be given. In the end of April 1802, when 
he was in his fifth year, his brother Andrew, the last child 
of his father and mother, was born ; and, from the time of 
his birth, he showed great fondness for him, and would have 
given him his playthings and all that he had. As Andrew 
grew older, his affection for him increased. In the begin- 
ning of December 1804, when he was in his seventh year, 
Andrew got cold, took ill, and died, at the age of two years 
and seven months ; and Robert was so affected by his death, 
that he cried bitterly for a whole day after it, and could not 
be stopped or soothed. He then became dull, and would 
not go out of the house, so that it was thought he would 
kill himself with grief ; and it was some weeks before he re- 
gained his activity and playfulness. 

At Whitsunday 1805, his father removed to Mid Moor- 
house : and one of the first things to be taken notice of in 
the formation of Robert's character and the development of 
his mind, is the situation of this place ; which, being his 
home from the middle of his seventh year, may be regarded 
as his native place. 

Mid Moorhouse, which is said to have been built before 
the Battle of Bannockburn, is situated about a quarter of a 
mile to the south-east of North Moorhouse ; and was adorned 
in Robert's time with eight old trees, four of which — " three 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 5 

ash, and one of elm " — were " tall " as well as old.* It stands 
on an open, elevated, hilly country, diversified with moor and 
dale, and surrounded, in the distance, with lofty mountains. 
The view from the house and different parts of the farm — 
which, notwithstanding 1 its name, contains no moors, hut is 
all either arable or meadow ground — is extensive, varied, and 
magnificent. It is terminated on the east and south by va- 
rious hills and moorland heights, from a mile to three miles 
distant ; and, from the west round to the north-east, along 
an outline of bold mountains, it varies in range from forty 
to eighty or ninety miles ; and within that range, the whole 
face of the country is undulating and picturesque. 

But the prospect from some of its neighbouring heights. 
which Robert, from his childhood, often visited, is much 
more extensive, and is still more varied and magnificent. 
The principal of these heights, and one which comprehends 
the view from all the rest, is Balagich, the highest hill in the 
upper part of Renfrewshire. It lies nearly a mile and a half 
to the south of Moorhouse, and rises a thousand feet above 
the level of the sea. The prospect from it varies in range 
from forty to ninety or a hundred miles ; and the circum- 
ference of it, which cannot be less than three or four hun- 
dred, consists of lofty mountains. To the east, over exten- 
sive tracts of moors, rises Tinto ; and beyond it, appear, in 
the distance, Walston Mount, Culter Fell, and Cardon. On 
the south-east and south, a vast moor, memorable for the 
meetings, and hallowed by the graves, of martyrs, stretches 

* The elm was, some years ago, broken down by wind, within a few 
yards of the ground ; but a number of shoots have sprung from the bottom 
of the old stem, one of which bids fair to be a tall tree : the ash trees are 
Still standing. 



6 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

out to Wardlaw and Cairntable, Black Craig, Windy Stan- 
dard, Cairnsmore of Carsphairn, and the Buchan Hills in 
Galloway. South-west and west, the view expands over the 
green hills of Carrick, the grassy plains of Kyle and Cun- 
niogham, and the spreading waters of the Frith of Clyde, to 
Ailsa- Craig, Arran, and the Peaks of Jura. On the north- 
west, and round to the north-east, the rich pastoral and 
arable lands of Renfrew and Lanarkshire slope gently down 
to the fertile vale of the Clyde, opening below the eye like 
a vast basin, in which are seen Paisley and Glasgow with 
their numerous suburbs ; and from which the face of the 
country rises irregularly — sometimes gradually, sometimes 
abruptly — to Ben Cruachan, Ben Lomond, Ben Ledi, Ben- 
voirlich, Uam-var, and the Ochil Hills. 

Such is the place where Robert was brought up : and there 
can be no doubt, that the nature of the surrounding country 
entered largely into the formation of his character, and the 
development of his mind — that it greatly contributed to the 
boldness, energy, and variety of the one, as well as to the 
purity, elevation, and comprehensiveness of the other. It 
was impossible for a mind like his to contemplate such a scene 
as that around Moorhouse, without being deeply inspired with 
the spirit of freedom, and strongly impressed with ideas of 
vastness and magnificence. 

Robert received the rudiments of his education at home ; 
and his mother, to whom, in common with the whole family, 
he owed much, was his first teacher. By her he was taught 
to read the Bible, and made to commit to memory the Shorter 
Catechism, with part of the Psalms of David. He was thus 
early initiated in the Christian religion, was taught " the first 
principles of the oracles of God ; " and was, at the same time, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 7 

inspired with an ardent zeal for civil and religious liberty. 
" From a child," like Timothy, he knew, " the Holy Scrip- 
tures." He was " trained up in the way in which he should 
go ; " he was brought " up in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord;" and, like Obadiah, he "feared the Lord from 
his youth." 

His early education, which was partly at South Longlee, a 
farm house in the neighbourhood of his father's, but chiefly 
at Mearns parish school, under the tuition of Mr Andrew 
Jackson, was confined to English reading, writing, and arith- 
metic, with little or no grammar, or, at least, as good as 
none. It continued from his eighth till his fifteenth year ; 
but was often interrupted, especially in summer, when he 
was employed in various agricultural operations. At school, 
he was diligent at his lessons, and kept high up in his classes ; 
made rapid progress in his education, and was seldom, if ever, 
punished. 

Robert grew up a well-formed, healthy, good-looking 
boy, of an ordinary size for his age, white and ruddy in com- 
plexion, with dark hair, and keen dark eyes; strong and en- 
ergetic, and his bodily strength and mental energies became 
every day more and more conspicuous. He was restlessly 
active ; but, from his training, never mischievous. Whenever 
his tasks were over, he went to play, and engaged in it with 
his whole soul. He was the life and spirit of all field-games 
among his school-fellows ; and, from his temper, strength, 
and agility, it may be said he excelled in all of them. 

His fortitude and intrepidity were, perhaps, always equal 
to his decision. " One thing," said an intimate friend of his, 
in speaking to me of writing his Life, " must be prominently 
brought out in drawing his character — his perfect fear- 



8 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

lessness." But he was neither insensible nor incautious of 
danger. His fearlessness was not rashness, but an act of 
reason : it was, knowledge, resolution, and consciousness of 
power. 

At Longlee school, in taking a part in the field-games 
which were practised there among the scholars, Robert's at- 
tention was first turned to character, and his talent for dis- 
criminating it first elicited. While these were going on, he 
observed the boys attentively ; compared their abilities, dis- 
positions, habits, and tendencies ; marked the differences of 
one from another ; and formed his opinion of each of them : 
so that he knew them all, and could readily tell their respec- 
tive characteristics. 

But, alas ! in one of these games, he engaged, at last, too 
keenly. Being pursued by a strong swift boy, nearly three 
years older than himself, and being determined not to be 
caught, he ran on till his strength was almost worn out. At 
length, he came to a rivulet that passes Longlee house, when 
he had just as much strength left as to leap over it* On 
crossing the stream, thinking the boy who ehased him would 
surely not pass it, he stood still and looked round ; and his 
pursuer, who was close behind him, threw himself down, 
exhausted, on the other side. 

Unhappily, by this running, he raised a pain in his right 
side and in the centre of his chest ; which, though slightly 
felt at first, and for a good while after scarcely felt at all, 
never fairly left him, but troubled him, less or more, all the 
rest of his life ; and, at last, in combination, first with violent 
bodily labour, and then with severe mental exertion, " took 
him away in the midst of his days ; " or rather, " in the be- 
ginning of his way." Immediately after this running, he lost 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 9 

his white and ruddy complexion, for which he was before re- 
markable, and became pale. 

Throughout his childhood and boyhood, he was exceedingly 
sensitive, and could not bear at all to be laughed at. Not- 
withstanding, it was difficult to anger him ; but when he was 
once roused to passion, he became violent and quite irresist- 
ible. It would not do to meddle with him, or at least to use 
him ill. 

When he was about fourteen years of age, he began, along 
with his cousin and constant companion, Robert Pollok, 
North Moorhouse, to learn to use a gun ; and, it may be 
added, that, from that time, he practised shooting, now and 
then, till he reached his twenty-fourth year. 

In the summer of 1813, when he was in his fifteenth year, 
it happened that I brought a copy of Taylor's Stenography 
to the house ; and he learned from it to write short-hand ; 
but he did not continue to practise it. 

About his fifteenth year, a happy change took place in his 
character, in one particular. From that time forward, he 
was no longer violent in his anger, but was remarkable for 
command of temper ; and, though he might become indig- 
nant, he was always calm, collected, and self-possessed. 

I observed the change when it took place, but did not then 
speak of it to him. At length, having occasion to refer to 
it, some years after he reached manhood, I asked him what 
produced it ; and he said, it was reading the Gospels. In 
perusing them for himself, when he was about fifteen years of 
age, he was struck with the meekness or calm dignity of the 
Saviour under provocation; 'and he resolved thenceforward to 
command his temper. Since that time, he added, " though I 



10 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

may feel and express righteous indignation, nothing ever 
puts me into a passion." 

During the summer of 1814, when he was in his sixteenth 
year, he began letter-writing. It happened that I passed 
that summer with our maternal relations at Horsehill ; and 
he took occasion to write to me, twice or thrice, in the course 
of it. All that I now remember of his letters, none of which 
were preserved, is, that one of them was written partly in 
short-hand. 

In the spring of that year, his youngest sister, Janet, was 
married to Mr David Young, a cabinet-maker, at Barrhead ; 
and shortly after her marriage, his brother-in-law, who was 
fond of him, and thought him clever, but knew nothing of 
his inclinations and feelings, recommended to him his own 
trade of cabinet-making, and wished him to go to Barrhead, 
and try it for a short time, to see if he would like it. Partly 
in compliance with the wish of Mr Young, and partly from 
curiosity, he went there the following spring, and made trial 
of it; but he did not like it, and soon returned to Moor- 
house. On his return, he said to me, " Well, I have tried 
the cabinet-making, and have made four chairs ; but it will 
not do." It did well enough, he said, for the first three 
chairs, for he wanted to know how to make them, and to 
be quick in making them ; but the fourth he made without 
thinking: and he gave it up for ever, determined to do some- 
thing else, 

In April, the same spring, an event took place which 
made a strong and lasting impression on his mind, deepened 
his natural thoughtfulness, and was afterwards turned by him 
to some account. This was the death, at Barrhead, of his 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 11 

sister, Mrs Young, who was a great favourite with him, as 
well as with all her relations and friends. On the 9th of 
April, she was delivered of a daughter ; and on the 17th of 
the same month she died. Robert was present; and nine 
years afterwards he produced an affecting description of her 
death-bed scene, when it was still fresh in his memory. This 
description forms the passage relative to the mother dying in 
child-bed, in the fifth Book of " The Course of Time," and it 
seems proper to quote it here. 

" Our sighs were numerous, and profuse our tears ; 

For she we lost was lovely, and we loved 

Her much : fresh in our memory, as fresh 

As yesterday, is yet the day she died. 

It was an April day ; and blithely all 

The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, 

And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts 

Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome bloody 

In healthy merriment ; when tidings came 

A child was born ; and tidings came again, 

That she who gave it birth was sick to death — 

So swift trode Sorrow on the heels of Joy ! 

We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees 

In fervent supplication to the throne 

Of mercy ; and perfumed our prayers with sighs 

Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks 

Of self-abasement : but we sought to stay 

An angel on the earth, a spirit ripe 

For heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused — 

Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! 

Most gracious, when she seemed the most to frown ! 

The room I well remember, and the bed 

On which she lay, and all the faces too, 

That crowded dark and mournfully around. 

Her father there and mother, bending, stood, 

And down their aged cheeks fell many drops 



12 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Of bitterness ; her husband, too, was there, 

And brothers, and they wept ; her sisters, too, 

Did weep and sorrow, comfortless ; and I, 

Too, wept, though not to weeping given ; and all 

Within the house was dolorous and sad. 

This I remember well ; but better still 

I do remember, and will ne'er forget, 

The dying eye ! — that eye alone was bright, 

And brighter grew, as nearer death approached : 

As I have seen the gentle little flower 

Look fairest in the silver beam which fell, 

Reflected from the thunder-cloud, that soon 

Came down, and o'er the desert, scattered, far 

And wide, its loveliness ! She made a sign 

To bring her babe — 'twas brought, and by her placed. 

She looked upon its face, that neither smiled 

Nor wept, nor knew who gazed thereon ; and laid 

Her hand upon its little breast, and sought 

For it, with look that seemed to penetrate 

The heavens, unutterable blessings, such 

As God to dying parents only granted, 

For infants left behind them in the world. 

* God keep my child !' we heard her say, and heard 

No more : the Angel of the Covenant 

Was come ; and faithful to his promise, stood, 

Prepared to walk with her through death's dark vale. 

And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still — 

Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused 

With many tears — and closed without a cloud. 

They set as sets the morning-star, which goes 

Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides, 

Obscured, among the tempests of the sky ; 

But melts away into the light of heaven." 

Robert, like the rest of the farmers' sons in the place 
where he was brought up, was bred to agricultural work. 
He wrought at it, occasionally, from his childhood up to his 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 13 

fifteenth year ; and from that, regularly, till he completed his 
seventeenth. 

During this early period of his life, his reading was, partly 
from want of time, but chiefly from want of books, very 
limited. It was confined almost entirely to the Bible, the 
Confession of Faith, and Fisher's Catechism, Scots Worthies, 
Bailey's Dictionary, which he often consulted; Salmond's 
Gazetteer, the first volume of the Spectator, some of Burns' 
Poems, and Scott's Lessons ; from the last of which, I have 
heard him say, he first got a taste for solid writing and good 
composition. Notwithstanding, he was not ill-informed or 
unintelligent. He had a taste for reading, and often perused 
the few books to which he had access. In particular, he 
heard the Bible read daily at family worship, and was in the 
habit of reading it himself. He also regularly attended church, U 
where he heard, from time to time, many instructive sermons, 
from a number of excellent ministers : so that his theological 
knowledge embraced the principal facts and doctrines of the I 
Bible. From the conversation, too, of his father and mother, 
and that of some of their friends, he learned much on vari- 
ous subjects, but especially in regard to ecclesiastical history. 
Besides, being always observant, curious, and enquiring, and 
capable of generalizing and drawing conclusions, he learned 
much by his own observation respecting agriculture and the 
common affairs of life, the appearances of nature and natural 
objects, the dispositions and characters of men, and the in- 
stincts and habits of animals. Add to all this, that he was 
thoughtful and reflective, and had a good memory ; and that 
he not only attended to what he saw, heard, and read, but 
remembered it. On the whole, then, it may be said, that, 
in one way and another, he knew a great deal — far more 



14 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

than might have been expected from his age and his circum- 
stances. The foundation of his future knowledge was laid, 
and all its essential elements were formed. 

As yet, though he had twice or thrice attempted rhyme, 
it could not he said that he had given any indication of a 
talent for poetry. Hearing it told of his eldest brother, 
James, who died in April 1803, in the twenty-second year 
of his age, that " he sometimes made poems," Robert and I 
thought that we might make them too ; and, from about his 
ninth or tenth year, we made together three stories in verse, 
two of them in the same measure as the Scotch metrical 
version of the Psalms of David, and one in the same as 
Burns' " Death and Dr Hornbook." In making them, which 
we did on our mind, committing them to memory as we went 
on, Robert was good at getting ideas, as we expressed it, 
but could do nothing at rhyming, and sometimes said to me, 
" I wonder how you can rhyme." But in these stories, or 
poems as we called them, there was no poetry, nor did we 
think that either of us would ever write it. 

Robert, however, had already formed the idea of writing 
something in prose, as he told me several years afterwards, 
and gave me an account of his forming it. He had heard, 
he said, the Spectator praised all his life for good writing. 
Happening one day, when about fifteen or sixteen years of 
age, on taking up an odd volume of it, which had been long 
in his father's^ to think he would look particularly into it to 
see what it was like, he took it away out to the fields, sat 
down, and read a paper of it with great care and attention. 
When he had done, he closed the book, saying, " I think I 
could write like that myself," and actually set to work imme- 
diately to compose a paper ; and, to his astonishment, found 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 15 

he could write. From that time, he entertained the idea of 
becoming an author sooner or later. 

In the autumn of 1815, when he had completed his seven- 
teenth year, a great and memorable change took place in 
regard to his education, pursuits, and prospects. At that 
time, he and I met at Moorhouse, on my return to it after an 
absence of two or three months. At our meeting, Robert 
seemed thoughtful, and he spoke and laughed less than usual. 
Soon after it, we went out to the fields together ; and, on 
entering into conversation, we found, that, unknown to one 
another, we had both, for several years, but especially for 
the last two, often thought of giving up farming, and that 
we had, at length, both come to the same resolution — to 
study for the ministry of the gospel in the Secession Church.)/ 
In returning to the house, we agreed to go to Fenwick 
school to prepare for college, and stay at Horsehill, with 
David Dickie, our mother's eldest brother. Accordingly, in 
the end of November, having received the approval of our 
father and mother, we went to Horsehill, and on the 2d of 
December, entered vigorously on the study of Latin, at Fen- 
wick parish school, under the tuition of Mr John Fairlie ; 
whose care and patience in instructing us, were, it may be 
mentioned in gratitude, beyond any thing of the kind we 
ever saw in a teacher. 

In four weeks, we were through Mackay's Latin Rudi- 
ments, and had got our first lesson read out in Corderius, 
which we began to read on New Year's Day 1816 : and 
never shall I forget the bound of joy with which we left 
school, that, day, with our Corderies in our pocket, to go 
home to Moorhouse, to see our friends ; nor the look of satis- 



16 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

faction with which our father and mother heard us read to- 
gether, at night, the first colloquy. 

During our continuance at school, which was, with some 
intermission, till the middle of July 1817, we read a good 
part of Corderius, the whole of Cornelius Nepos, most of 
the Commentaries of Caesar, and nearly the first three 
books of the iEneid of Virgil, parsing and construing as 
we went along. 

To every new lesson, from first to last, Robert sat down 
with great avidity, and he looked up words in the dictionary 
and rules in the grammar, with remarkable intentness and 
perseverance. All along, having paid great attention to 
translation, parsing, and construction, he made rapid pro- 
gress in the acquisition of the Latin language ; and, by the 
time he left school, his knowledge of it was accurate and 
considerably extensive. 

It may be added, as indicating the development of his 
mind, that, in reading the different authors, he often made 
remarks on their sentiments and expressions, especially when 
he met with any thing that had reference to character, or that 
was applicable to present times. 

His stay at Horsehill, besides being in itself a great con- 
venience with respect to his preparation for college, was at- 
tended with much advantage, and productive of important 
consequences. 

His uncle, David Dickie, with whom he lived there, was 
no ordinary man, either in talent or acquirement, or in the 
powers of communicating information. In him, Robert 
practically saw the advantage arising from knowledge, and 
from well-chosen and expressive language ; and he became 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 17 

intent on acquiring the one and habituating himself to the 
use of the other. 

But this was not all. Hitherto, Robert had read little or 
no poetry, except selections in school-books ; and had seen 
none of the works of the British poets. But he now began 
his acquaintance with them. Soon after going to Horse- 
hill, he met, among his uncle's books, with two poetical 
works. One of these, and the first of them that he found, 
was Pope's " Essay on Man," He began to read it imme- 
diately ; and he recurred to it, from time to time, in the in- 
tervals of study, till he had gone through it again and again. 
He admired the rhyme and the versification ; and, in the 
spring of 1816, when he was in the middle of his eighteenth 
year, he wrote a short poem, as he entitled it, in the same 
kind of verse as that Essay ; and this was the first poetical 
piece that he ever composed. He had been home for a few 
days in April, that spring, assisting his father at farm- work ; 
and, on his way back, one evening, from Moorhouse to Horse- 
hill, a distance of eight miles, six of which I walked along 
with him, he composed the verses. Next day, he committed 
them to writing, and read them to me. I was struck, when- 
ever he began to read them, with their difference from the 
poems, as they were called, which he and I made together ; 
and, when he had done reading them, I said to him, " So you 
can rhyme now." " That is not much," he said, with a look 
of indifference. " It would be a pity, at any rate," said I, " if 
the one who can make that did not get a good education : " 
and from that time, having a new view of him, and new feel- 
ings towards him altogether, I looked up to him with a sort of 
prophetic deference. 

In a day or two after reading the poem to me, he wrote it 

B 



18 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

carefully out in a plain, small, neat hand ; and, though ere- 
long, whatever might be his opinion of it at first, he thought 
it not worth preserving, and meant it to be destroyed, so that 
it was never corrected, it has happened to be preserved as he 
then wrote it. It extends to thirty-one couplets ; and, it seems 
proper, on account of the interest attached to it as his first 
poetical production, to insert the following parts of it here : 

"A POEM 

" ON PHILUS AND PHILLIS, TWO LOVERS. 

" It is from God we have our blessings here, 
And 'tis our duty to live in his fear. 
Give ear to me, tune up my weak-stringed lyre, 
And with immortal sense my heart inspire, 
To speak aright about this lovely pair, 
Like Celadon and his Amelia fair. 

Philus has features better-set than fine ; 

In Phillis grace and beauty rare combine. 

***** 

At the first sight each other's hearts they gain, 

In amity united they remain. 
***** 

On summer eves, when zephyrs cheer the plain, 
And waft the sailors o'er the flowing main, 
Away strays Philus glad to Phillis' bower, 

"Who ready waits to meet him at the hour. 

***** 

No — in their converse no such stuff has place, 

But all their talk's of learning, love, and grace. 

***** 

But Heaven, I hope, will soon the two make one, 
In Hymen's bands their course on earth to run. 
While Thou art pleased that they abide below, 
May blessings great of all kinds on them flow. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 19 

When Death, the arch-foe, shall at last he sent, 
And bid them yield their life, from Thee but lent, 
Transport them hence to mansions high above, 
Where they'll be blest with an eternal love." 

Such is part of the first essay of his mind to go out on the 
world. There is in it no exercise of imagination — no de- 
parture from reality. The names of the lovers, indeed, are 
fictitious; but the lovers themselves were real characters, 
and all that is said of them was matter of fact. It indicates, 
however, the samo kind of mind that the author afterwards 
displayed ; and shows that, when he wrote it, he could think 
better than he could write ; or, as a college friend of his, Mr 
William Williamson, justly and expressively said of it, on 
hearing it read, " It shows that, when he wrote it, he was 
not beginning to think, but beginning to talk." 

The other poetical work which he met with at his uncle's, 
was one of very different moment, and his meeting with it 
was the most memorable event in his stay at Horsehill : it 
was Milton's " Paradise Lost." He found a copy of it, one 
day, among some old books, on the upper shelf of a wall- 
press in the kitchen, where it had lain neglected for years. 
Though he had never seen Paradise Lost before, he had often 
heard of it, and he began to read it immediately. He was 
captivated with it at the very first ; and after that, as long 
as he staid at Horsehill, he took it up whenever he had the 
least opportunity, and read with great eagerness. When he 
was leaving the place, his uncle, seeing him so fond of the 
book, gave it to him in a present; and from that time, 
Milton became his favourite author, and, I may say, next to 
the Bible, his chief companion. Henceforward, he read more 
or less of him almost every day, and used often to repeat 



20 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

aloud, in bed, immediately before rising in the morning, what 
was his favourite passage in Paradise Lost — the apostrophe 
I to light in the beginning of the third Book. 

His reading of Paradise Lost, like his perusal of the 
Essay on Man, was not without immediate fruit. In the 
autumn of 1816, when he was home at Moorhouse, mowing 
hay, his brother John asked some poetry from him to insert 
in a letter to a friend ; and he wrote a short piece for him. 
This was his second poetical production, and his first in blank 
verse. On this last account, it is thought proper to intro- 
duce it here. It is as follows : 

"LINES TO LIZA. 

Written after her Tyrant Father had separated her for ever from 
Melvan's Adverse Fortune. 

" O sweetest, fairest of the fairest sex ! 

Virtue untainted dwells within thy breast. 

Too fair, too virtuous, if such things can be, 

Thou art ; for thou hast wounded me, who heretofore 

Was wounded never, with such darts of love. 

why wast thou formed 

So fair ? — if so, why from my eyes not hid ? 

Or rather why do I not thee possess ? 

Since wanting thee, unhappy — with thee, blest. 

Alas ! by fate, thou'rt to another doomed, 

To one, who, by some inward pravity, 

Is without happiness, and thou with him ; 

And I, for want of thee, unhappier. 

" Had I of life thy partner been ordained, 
We to such happiness had reached below, 
That thoughts had been by us of future bliss 
Neglected— our grand business in this world. 
Hence may we learn, that disappointments here, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 21 

And every cross, are blessings — blessings such 

As from this grovelling waste, to heaven our thoughts 

Uplift, where happiness unmingled dwells. 

To heaven conformed be then our mundane track, 

That, at a future day, transporting thought ! 

Our Judge may be our Advocate : if so, 

For evermore, in realms of peaceful love, 

We our abode shall have ; where we'll enjoy 

Pleasures, abundant as is their Great Source, 

Endless as He who lives eternally." 

This piece, which his brother says " he wrote in a short 
time — off-hand — -just at once/' is wholly imaginary — a pure 
invention or poetical creation, not even founded on fact, so 
that it forms an interesting contrast to his first piece, written 
only three or four months before, and marks distinctly the 
progress of his mind from fact to fiction : it is the first trial 
of his invention — the first flight of his fancy. 

These two poetical works, which, with the Bible, were his 
principal English reading during his stay at Horsehill, never 
in the least diverted his attention from his Latin lessons, nor 
abated his ardour in the study of that language ; but, on the 
contrary, by showing him the advantages of learning, more 
closely fixed the one, and more keenly excited the other. At 
the same time, by introducing him, almost simultaneously, to 
two of the standard English writers in rhyme and blank verse, 
they produced in him a strong desire to read the rest of them. 

During the whole period of his stay at Horsehill, he regu- 
larly attended public worship in the Secession church, Clerk's 
Lane, Kilmarnock, where the Rev. John Ritchie, now in 
Edinburgh, was then minister ; and he thought him one of the 
most instructive and edifying preachers that he ever heard. 

In his nineteenth year he attained his full stature. He was 



22 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

five feet nine inches in height, and his walk was erect and 
graceful. He had broad shoulders, and a full roomy chest ; 
and was symmetrical, firm, muscular, and strong for his size ; 
his head was small and well-formed, and his brow large in 
proportion ; he had plain brown-black hair, which never 
changed its colour from his infancy ; his eyes were black, 
and remarkably keen, expressive, and commanding ; his com- 
plexion was pale brown; his features were small and fine, 
and the expression of his countenance was open, bold, and 
manly ; his look was the look of penetration and intelligence, 
and his whole appearance indicative of energy and decision. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 23 



CHAPTER II. 

In the month of July 1817, having attended Fen wick school 
about sixteen months, Robert left it and Horsehill together. 
From that time till near the end of October, he was engaged 
in harvest operations. 

The mowing of hay, this year and the one before, was, it 
may be mentioned in passing, the only thing in his life, as he 
told me towards the close of it, on which he could not look 
back without pain. Besides obstructing his preparation for 
college, and retarding his progress in literature, it greatly 
distressed him, and permanently aggravated the pains in his 
side and chest ; but there seemed then no help for it. 

In the beginning of November, when he had completed his 
nineteenth year, having finished the labours of harvest at 
Moorhouse, he and I entered the college of Glasgow toge- 
ther. We joined the senior side of the Latin class, under 
Professor Walker ; and the junior of the Greek, under Pro- 
fessor Young. 

To both of these classes Robert went always well prepared ; 
and, as he studied hard during the whole session, he made 
much progress in the acquisition of the languages taught in 
them. 

During the time that the Greek class was reading Ana* 
creon's Odes, he wrote a prose translation of them, which is 



24 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

still preserved in his hand-writing in two small duodecimo 
volumes. 

In the course of the session, he produced a third piece of 
original poetry, and first tried his hand at poetical translation. 
Professor Walker requested his students to give him in volun- 
tary exercises in verse, either original, or translated from the 
Latin poets. When he received productions of this kind, which 
he reckoned good, he either read them to the class himself, or 
handed them to the writers to read. During the session, 
Robert gave him in three of these exercises — one original 
and two translations. None of the three was read to the 
class, and the first two were returned without any mark of 
notice whatever ; but, on the last one, there was written with 
pencil, by the Professor, " Some of these verses are very spi- 
rited." " Why then," said Robert, indignantly, the moment 
he saw the words, " why, then, not read them to the class ? " 
Nor did he soon forget the neglect — a neglect, however, 
which, as he owned, did him great good : it turned him away 
at the very outset of his classical curriculum, from a particu- 
lar to a general standard of excellence ; and determined him 
on ultimately appealing from a private to a public tribunal. 
From the day that he met with it, as he was then beginning 
to put some confidence in his poetical talents, he looked away 
beyond the partial, capricious, evanescent honours of a col- 
lege, to fairer as well as more lasting fame. 

Two of these exercises, the original one and the last of the 
translations, it is thought proper to insert here, as specimens 
of his proficiency in metrical composition, in his first session 
at college, and during the early part of his twentieth year. 
They are as follow : 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 25 



« ODE TO THE SUN. 

" Hail, thou immortal source of light ! 
At thy approach, the gloomy night, 

Ashamed, shrinks from thy ray ; 
The moon, submissive, disappears, 
And all the planets, in their spheres, 

Are lost in whiter day. 

The lion quits the brightening plain, 
And all the nightly-prowling train 

Now fear the blood they've spilt ; 
Rebellion, riot, wild misrule, 
Night's progeny, of mischief full, 

Fly, conscious of their guilt. 

Hark ! how the grateful sons of day 
Extol the penetrating ray 

That banishes their dread : 
In tuneful notes, the feathered throng 
Melodious pour the early song, 

And every leaf is glad. 

The bleating flocks, the lowing kine, 
In rougher notes the concert join, 

As gaily wide they graze ; 
The fields, all waving richly gay, 
The flowers, unfolding to thy ray, 

Though silent, smile thy praise. 

Now, from his couch upstarts the swain, 
And sprightly hurries o'er the plain, 

To see what Night has done : 
With heartfelt joy, his flocks among, 
He joins the universal song — 

' Hail, ever bounteous Sun !' " 



26 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. 



THE FURY SENT TO WITHHOLD JUTURNA FROM ASSISTING HEE 
BROTHER TURNUS. 

( Translated from Virgil, Book Twelfth.) 

" Another counsel now great Jove revolves, 
To send Juturna from the fight resolves. 
In lowest regions, far remote from light, 
Three sisters, at a birth, were horn to Night r 
The Furies named ; of serpents is their hair ; 
Wings swift as wind, given by parental care. 
These, at the threshold of the sovereign god, 
Stand, ready heralds of his ireful nod ; 
Whene'er great Jove gives the supreme behest, 
To dart wild horror in the human breast ; 
Dire death to send, or fell disease bestow, 
Or whelm a city, guilt-distained, in woe. 
To one of these Jove gave command to fly, 
With winged speed, down from the lofty sky ; 
With orders charged, his ireful signs to wield 
Before Juturna in the martial field. 
The downward course the pinioned Mischief bends,. 
In rapid whirlwind to the earth descends. 
As from a Parthian or Cydonian bow, 
Death- tinged, incurable, against the foe, 
An arrow, o'er the cloud-benighted green, 
Flies, hissing, in the shady maze unseen ; 
So flies the Sister-plague, offspring of Night, 
And seeks the earth : soon as she saw the fight r 
Of her own form she took that fowl's instead, 
Which sits, by night, o'er the entombed dead ; 
On ruined domes, or on forsaken towers, 
Late, inauspicious, hoots amidst the bowers. 
This form assumed, before ^Eneas' foe, 
The whirling Fury screams, foreboding woe. 
With her horriferous wings she flaps his shield ; 
His limbs relaxed with fear, his blood congealed ; 



.THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 27 

His hair stood bristly at the fatal sight ; 

His tongue was fettered with the sudden fright. 

Soon as Juturna knew the direful sign, 

In anguish deep, she tore her hair divine ; 

Her face she mangled, and her breast she beat — 

' What can I now, O Turnus, in thy fate ? 

What now remains to me, in wretched plight ? 

Thee, by what art, can I detain in light ? 

Such rueful monsters can my power withstand ? 

Now, now I quit the field, the fighting band ! 

Ill-boding fowls, do not augment my fear ! 

Your beating wings, your deadly screams I hear. 

The mandates stern I know of Jove divine ! — 

Are these rewards for chastity like mine ? 

Or why eternal life on me bestow ? 

Why vanquish death to be a nymph in woe ? 

If I my wretched brother could attend, 

In death most sure, in death my woes might end' I 

Immortal I ! ah ! where is the delight, 

Without my brother to be found in light ? 

What earth for me, what earth shall yawn full deep, 

And give a nymph to everlasting sleep !' 

Thus said, the goddess veiled her head around, 

And, groaning, plunged into the deep profound.** 

In the course of the session, he acquired a valuable per* 
sonal friend, in a namesake of his own, Mr Robert Pollok, 
now minister of the United Secession congregation, Buck- 
haven, in Fife. On the calling of the catalogue in the Latin 
class, the first time after he joined it, two students, himself 
and another one, answered to the name of Robert Pollok ; 
and the Professor requested them to remain and speak with 
him at the dismissal of the class, to be distinguished by major 
and minor. They staid as requested ; and met that morn- 
ning, for the first time, at the Professor's chair. On their 



28 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

retiring, Robert brought his namesake, who ranked major of 
the two, along with him to his lodgings, which were near the 
top of High Street. After that, they prepared their Latin 
lessons together at night, till the end of the session ; and 
an intimate and lasting friendship was then formed between 
them. 

In the beginning of May, Robert went home to Moor- 
house, where he spent the vacation in reading Latin, Greek, 
and English ; and, at the opening of the classes on the 10th 
of October, for the session of 1818-19, he returned to col- 
lege. This session, during which he lodged at No. 36, Canon 
Street, he attended the Greek class; and devoted his time 
chiefly to the study of the Greek language. Besides this, he 
attended a class for elocution, which was taught by the now 
celebrated Mr James Sheridan Knowles ; and made consider- 
able improvement in that art. 

About the New-year, he wrote an " Ode to Moorhouse ;" 
and it now stands the first of a selection of pieces from his 
juvenile poetry, annexed to the present memoir. It is pro- 
per to add, that, in the course of the session, he formed an 
intimate and permanent friendship with Mr David Marr, 
then a student at the University of Glasgow, and lately mini- 
ster of the United Secession congregation, Lothian Road, 
Edinburgh. 

During the summer, while he prosecuted, at home, the 
study of Latin and Greek, he read English more than for- 
merly, in preparation for the Logic class of the ensuing 
winter ; and produced a few verses occasionally. Having now 
fairly discontinued agricultural pursuits, his leisure or re- 
creative hours were passed, generally, either in talking with 
his friends and neighbours, or in walking in the fields, obser- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 29 

ving and contemplating- the various objects and appearances 
of nature, which he admired in all its extent and variety. He 
noticed every thing, and took interest in every thing, near and 
distant, above and below, little and great, animate and inani- 
mate, man and beast. Whatever was worthy of God to create 
and preserve, was surely, he thought, worthy of man to notice 
and take interest in. 

His taste for the varied scenes and views around Moor- 
house was not partial, but universal, extending to all places, 
at all times and seasons. From his boyhood, he frequented 
all the heights and hollows, springs, lakes, and streams, for 
several miles around it. Scarcely was there a spot in its 
whole neighbourhood where his feet did not tread ; and, though 
he had favourite places of resort, he admired each place in 
itself, and in its relation to others. One great source of his 
admiration was what is there emphatically termed the North 
Hills, a magnificent range of Highland mountains, including 
Ben Cruachan, Ben Lomond, Benvenue, Ben Ledi, and 
Benvoirlich ; and presenting a front, as seen from Moorhouse, 
unsurpassed for boldness by any thing in Scotland. These 
mountains, which were afterwards designated by him, 

" Scotia's northern battlement of hills," 

formed his favourite view ; and often did he rise from writing 
at Moorhouse, and go out to a small elevation beside it, called 
the Head of the Close, and admire them, in their varied 
appearances throughout the year. 

Nothing, however, delighted him so much as walking out 
alone, in a good day, without any definite purpose, into the 
moors that lie to the south and south-east of Moorhouse ; 
wandering among them from height to height, or from glen 



30 THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK, 

to glen, till, as lie expressed it, his " soul was filled with their 
glories ;" and then returning home at his leisure. His fa- 
vourite places of resort in these walks were the top of Bala- 
gich, and a great hollow about three miles to the south-east 
of it towards Loudon Hill, called the Crook of the Lainsh, 
where the moors may be said to be in perfection — where 
they stretch out on all sides as far as the eye can reach, 
and where scarcely a cultivated spot, or any trace of art, is 
visible. To his walks in these moors, he referred afterwards 
in the following well-known passage, which combines a de- 
scription of the two last-mentioned places, and expresses his 
feelings and habits in visiting them : 

" Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot, 
In the wide desert, where the view was large. 
Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me 
The solitude of vast extent, untouched 
By hand of art ; where Nature sowed herself, 
And reaped her crops 5 whose garments were the clouds ; 
Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars ; 
Whose organ- choir, the voice of many waters ; 
Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ; 
Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers ; 
Whose orators, the thunderbolts of God ; 
Whose palaces, the everlasting hills ; 
Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue ; 
And from whose rocky turrets, battled high, 
Prospect immense spread out on all sides round ; 
Lost now between the welkin and the main, 
Now walled with hills that slept above the storm. 

" Most fit was such a place for musing men ; 
Happiest sometimes when musing without aim. 
It was, indeed, a wondrous sort of bliss 
The lonely bard enjoyed, when forth he walked, 
Unpurposed ; stood, and knew not why ; sat down, 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 31 

And knew not where ; arose, and knew not when ; 

And sought, sought neither heaven nor earth, sought nought, 

Nor meant to think ; hut ran, meantime, through vast 

Of visionary things, fairer than aught 

That was ; and saw the distant tops of thoughts 

Which men of common stature never saw, 

Greater than aught that largest words could hold, 

Or give idea of to those who read." * 

The only house that he visited in these moors, was the far- 
known Lochgoin, which is about four miles to the south of 
Moorhouse, in the parish of Fenwick, in Ayrshire. It stands 
on a green spot, on a commanding height, in the midst of 
mosses. This house was a haunt for the Covenanters during 
the persecution between 1660 and 1688 ; and was twelve times 
searched for them, but none were ever found in it. It contains 
a flag, a drum, and a pair of drumsticks, which were used at 
the battle of Bothwell-bridge ; together with Captain Paton's 
sword, which he carried during eighteen years of the persecu- 
tion, and his Bible, which he gave to his wife from the scaffold, 
immediately before he was executed at the Grassmarket of 
Edinburgh. It was first built in 1178, and the same family 
which came originally from France on account of persecu- 
tion, have possessed it from generation to generation, for six 
hundred years. Its last possessor, John Howie, a common 
farmer, with a common education, compiled within its walls 
the " Scots Worthies ;" and collected in it a considerable 
library of valuable old books, which are in the possession of his 
son Thomas Howie, its present possessor. To this hallowed, 
venerated, and interesting place, Robert instituted a yearly 
summer visit of all the young people in the neighbourhood of 
Moorhouse ; and it is still kept up under the name of Robert 
* The Course of Time, Book V. 



32 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

Pollok's Lochgoin visit, and many come from different quar- 
ters to join in it. 

About this time, lie was constantly attended by a strong, 
dark-brown, colly dog, which he called Juva, a Latin name 
of the same import as Help in English ; and one of the habits 
of this dog — which was so strongly attached to him, that, 
when he was away from home, he often sat outside the door, 
and howled till he returned — deserves to be mentioned here. 
When he happened, at any time, to sit writing longer than 
usual, Juva rose from below the table, where he often lay, 
and put his foot upon his knee, and pawed it gently, to make 
him rise and take a walk. In this way, Robert once said to 
me, in speaking of the habit, Juva often admonished him that 
he had sat long enough, and made him rise and go out and 
take exercise, when he would not have done it. " Indeed," 
he added with a smile, " he seemed to know better when I 
had sat long enough than I did myself." But he and Juva 
did not long enjoy one another; and the following fact, 
relative to their separation, will show how great a favourite 
he was with him : One day when he was from home, Juva 
followed some of the Moorhouse family to Glasgow, where 
he was lost ; and when Robert was told of the occurrence, he 
became silent, and the tears started to his eyes ; and, after 
a short pause, he said, with great emotion, " He will be very 
ill about me, he was so much attached to me ; that is the 
thing that makes me so ill about him." 

Towards the end of this summer, he began to keep a note- 
book. It is dated " July 26th 1819," and contains short 
extracts from Hervey, Burns, Beattie, Shakspeare, Ossian, 
Pope, Milton, Johnson, and others, being selections from his 
reading for about eleven months. He began it very sys- 



THE LIFE OF BOBERT POLLOK. 33 

tematically : four pages of it are left for contents ; the first 
twenty-nine extracts are numbered in succession ; and a table 
of contents is begun, specifying the subject of each, and re- 
ferring to its number and page. 

Early in November, he returned to college for the session 
of 1819-20, and joined the Logic class, under the pro- 
fessorship of the venerated George Jardine. To this class 
he had looked forward with much delight, and he entered on 
the business of it with great ardour. He paid particular at • 
tention to the lectures of the Professor, took copious notes of 
them, and wrote carefully all the exercises or essays pre- 
scribed to the class, of which there were usually three a-week. 
In these essays he took great pleasure, and he wrote them, 
from the very first, with ease and rapidity. 

Early in the session, he joined with a number of his class- 
fellows, of whom the writer was one, in forming a Logic-class 
debating society ; and, after its formation, he took a promi- 
nent part in the debates. While he continued to take his 
share in the business of this society, he became an active 
member of another one of a similar kind ; so that he was, 
one way and another, busily employed. 

Of his various engagements, about the middle of De- 
cember, he has himself left an account in the following letter 
to his cousin and early companion, Mr Robert Pollok, North 
Moorhouse ; which is, so far as I know, his first letter that 
has been preserved : 

" Glasgow, Dec. 15, 1819. 

" My Dear Friend, — I received a parcel this morning from 
Mr John Campbell,* in which was a letter directed to your- 
self, which I hereby send you, 

* A second cousin of his. 



34 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" The streets of Glasgow are overlaid with ice : therefore, 
if you intend to come to town before thaw, you had better 
have yourself frosted. 

" I would write you a long letter if Time, that hurrying 
chielf would permit. But he seems to have got a new fea- 
ther in his wing ; and, if I am not prepared to profess 
[Greek] against to-morrow at two o'clock ; if I am not pre- 
pared to be president in the Logic society, first Saturday, 
and orator * in another, early next week ; and do not, in the 
interim, write many logical essays, and read much Latin and 
Greek — if I do not perform all these things before Thursday, 
next week, he says, with his usual determination, that I must 
be left behind. I shall try, however, to lop off some of his 
extreme feathers ; and that, you know, can be done only by 
exertion. 

" If the weather be thus bitter cold, I am not sure if I may 
be at Moorhouse on the approaching holidays. I hope, there- 
fore, that you will gather all the news of that circle with 
which you are connected, and send them to me. 
* * * # 

" Write to me soon. Remember me kindly to all your friends 
and mine about you, and especially to my dear uncle your 
father. Accept my best respects, and believe me to be, yours 
inviolably, 

" R. Pollok. 

» p.S. — I have not been short after all." 

Among the last exercises prescribed to the Logic class, 
was one called the Descriptive Essay, the subject of which 
was not given out by the Professor, but left to the choice of 
* Opener of debate. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 35 

the writer ; and it was reckoned the principal essay of the 
session for trying the attainments of the students in thinking 
and composition. 

The Descriptive Essay which Robert wrote for this class, 
is a fictitious account, in a letter to a friend, of an imaginary 
journey, supposed to be performed in the beginning of the 
summer of 1820, on leaving college for the session. It is his 
first attempt, in prose, at description of character, and may 
be regarded, on the whole, as a fair specimen of his powers 
of invention and description, at this early stage of his edu- 
cation. On this account, it seems proper to introduce it here, 
with the omission of a few passages. 

" My Dear Friend, — I set out from K , towards M , 



my native place, about six o'clock in the morning. As the 
weather was not very agreeable, I took my seat in the inside 
of the stage-coach. My fellow-travellers seemed mostly to 
think, like myself, that the inside was more comfortable : 
it was, therefore, very much crammed. The company, in 
general, seemed little inclined for conversation. There was 
one or two, however, who wished to contribute as much 
as was in their power to the happiness of their fellow-crea- 
tures. These had learned habitually to think that man has 
his origin in the dust, and that thither he is soon to return, 
where all distinction will be done away for ever: these 
wished to speak and to hear. Silence was, therefore, occa- 
sionally banished from the company, and conversation filled 
its place. Two or three of the characters, as they appeared 
to me somewhat interesting, I shall attempt to describe. 

" Besides myself, there was only one male passenger inside 
the vehicle. I will not dwell upon his bodily qualifications ; 



36 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

but, to give you an idea of the whole outward man at once, 
he wanted nothing but just a little added to every part to 
represent Richard III. He was in this as his Maker made 
him, and therefore well. But his present mind he had 
acquired at the expense of infinite labour. It was por- 
trayed in his face, and seemed to read thus : * Ye are all 
contemptible beings in this vehicle except myself. It is a 
great pity that such a one as I should be exposed to the 
staring eyes of such a despicable crowd/ 

" I was very curious to know who this extraordinary per- 
sonage might really be. At the first stage, I made enquiry 
at the postilion, who, instead of beginning with titles, told 
me, that the gentleman of whom I was enquiring was a 
tailor, who had lately spoiled a suit of clothes to his grace 
the Duke of ! 

" The being, which I am now to describe, wore a counte- 
nance made up of envy, hatred, despair, and their concomi- 
tant passions. It was a woman, aged, I think, about thirty- 
five years. She was dressed, however, in p a style of vanity 
which might have been pardonable in a girl of fifteen, but 
really ill became her age and countenance. 

" This unhappy being, I found to be one who, in her early 
years, had been esteemed the beauty of the place where she 
resided. From her beauty, or rather want of sense, she had 
waved her head disdainfully at the first youths in the place ; 
and had heard, with an unrelenting heart, the departing sigh 
of many a lover. In short, she was one of those beings 
which the Spectator designates by the name 'idol/ and a 
striking example of the ( woman,' having ' outlived the god- 
dess.' 

" The countenance of the next woman that attracted my 



SHE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOCK. 37 

notice, was of that free, open, and unaffected sort, which is 
the never-failing beacon of a kind, true, undesigning heart. 
Fifty years, perhaps, had passed over her. She had with her 
a little grand-daughter, on whom she looked with peculiar 
delight — describing to Miss Jeanie, as she called her, and to 
any other person who might ask, the objects of curiosity 
which presented themselves by the way. This lady was not 
assuming : her countenance said that she would contribute, 
as much as was in her power, to the happiness of her fellow- 
creatures. In a word, she came near to one of those cha- 
racters that novelists describe when they intend to represent 
perfection. 

" As the vehicle proceeded, the day became beautiful, and 
I took my seat in the open air. Here was a young gentle- 
man reading, or pretending to be reading, in the fourth 
Book of the Iliad. I knew his face : he had been a class- 
fellow with me during winter. He was not an acquaintance 
of mine, however ; for he was one of what we call the second 
class of students, and with that class I have never been inti- 
mate. But, as you have not studied in a college, you may, 
perhaps, not understand what I mean by a first, second, and 
third class. 

" The first class consists of young gentlemen who are 
students indeed — gentlemen who add application to talent — 
gentlemen who wish to be first in learning, and who are not 
unwilling to submit to the labour which is necessary for 
gainiug what they wish. 

" The second class consists of fine gentlemen ; they must, 
therefore, be seen on the street, and they must be seen by 
more than one candle at night. They consequently do not 
study very much. They wish, however, to pass for gentle- 



38 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

men of talent and ability ; and, as they have money, they 
generally contrive to make a tolerable appearance in the 
class. Sometimes, too, these gentlemen make a wonderful 
effort at carrying off a prize ; and in this they are greatly 
assisted by the gentlemen of the third class ; for, you must 
know, that there are some young men in, I suppose, every 
college, who think it a mighty honour to be saluted in a 
morning by a fine gentleman. So great, indeed, is their de- 
sire of this, that, I have been told, a salutation or two, and a 
nod now and then, have sometimes secured a vote. I have 
been told, too, that these fine gentlemen — I am ashamed to 
repeat it — have done more by a dinner than others have 
been able to do by a half-year's hard labour. But saluta- 
tions, nods, and dinners, have effect on the third class only. 

" The third class consists of gentlemen who, apparently, 
care neither for learning nor honour. They are sometimes 
present, sometimes absent. Their general business is to ap- 
plaud any smart thing which a fine gentleman may happen 
to say, and to appear uneasy and dissatisfied when a meritori- 
ous student speaks * 

" Well, this gentleman, formerly my class-fellow, and now 
my fellow-traveller, was an extremely fine gentleman of the 
second class ; and, would you believe it, sir ? I have seen him 
enter the class-room with spurs on his boots ; for you must 
know, that spurs are now almost an essential part of a fine 
gentleman. No sooner did he see my face than he closed his 
Homer, and saluted me. It was the first time, however, that 
he had ever done so. I returned his salutation in my usual 
way, which, you know, is a little stiff, and sat down. The 
gentleman was silent for some time. By and by, he began 
to talk, or at least wished to talk, very learnedly. He 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 39 

opened a little trunk, and, after putting aside a pair of 
spurs, he took out a book superbly bound. ' This,' said he, 
* is my note-book : here is all the sense of the college.' He 
opened it, and went on thus : ' A definition — yes, from de and 
Jingo, to fix to. I used to say to Bucephalus, I will define 
you, meaning that I would fix the spurs to his sides, if he 
kept lagging. He is an excellent courser, though, Bucephalus 
— he is at home before me.' The gentleman then turned 
over a leaf or two, and, looking to me, asked what I meant 
by a syllogism, intending, probably, to expose my ignorance. 
I answered, ' I suppose you have all about it in that book ? ' 
', O yes,' said he, ' I studied it : it is finely explained here ; 
much better than I heard it done. Look you there, I thought 
it worth writing in German text.' I looked to it. < Sir,' 
said I, ( you prefer the i and the single I, in the term syllo- 
gism, to the y and the double V He appeared not to notice 
me, and proceeded. c Yes, it is an excellent thing the syllo- 
gism, invented by Aristotle, and improved by Lord Bacon. 
I am determined to make my dogs run by syllogisms this 
year ; ay, and Bucephalus too, or Pll define him/ 

" I was, in this manner, observing, talking, and hearing 
others talk, when we arrived at an inn, about seven miles dis- 
tant from my father's house. I wished a good journey to my 
fellow-travellers, and stepped into the inn. Here, I was well 
known ; and as it was now dark, the landlord entreated me, 
with all the earnestness of a friend, to spend the night with 
him. He urged the lateness of the hour, and the danger that 
I would be in of catching cold and of losing my way. But 
nothing could prevail. I had been longer absent from my 
native place than ever I had been before ; and those feelings 
were all awake in my breast, which are common to every one, 



40 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

when lie is near a home where he expects to be kindly and 
joyfully received. 

" The country through which I was now to travel, was 
partly wild and uncultivated ; and from this inn, no formed 
road led to my native place. I had to pass many places, too, 
which, as I had been told in my early years, had been the 
favourite haunts of witches and fairies, from time immemo- 
rial. Trusting, however, to my early acquaintance with the 
country for finding my way, and to the little philosophy of 
which I thought myself master, for encountering the witches, 
after supping with the landlord, and wishing him a good 
night, I proceeded on my way. I had scarcely travelled two 
miles, when the sky lowered, and the stars disappeared ; and 
although it was the beginning of summer, the night became 
very dark. I was now approaching a place, where, as I have 
often heard old Janet tell, fairies and witches used to dance 
their mystic rounds. Although it is long since I became a 
complete unbeliever in witches and fairies, yet, when I ap- 
proached this place, my hair, in spite of every effort to the 
contrary, stood on end, and the sweat bedewed my skin. I 
was afraid, and I was angry because I was afraid. I deter- 
mined to turn my thoughts on some other object. I repeated 
my favourite Ode of Horace, in which he describes his country 
seat. But all would not do. Every wildfowl, which I hap- 
pened to disturb, made me tremble. I was now come near to 
an old wall, in which were many stones placed, as stories tell, 
by these inhabitants of the night ; and on the other side of 
which was the renowned spot, where the devil nightly as- 
cended, and gave instructions to his fairy band. I scrambled 
to the top of the wall, still an obstinate unbeliever in witches ; 
and, summoning up all my fortitude, made a bold leap down 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 41 

on the haunted spot. How dreadful was my terror ! Some- 
thing started under me, and with inconceivable velocity car- 
ried me across the fields. In this dreadful moment, the night 
grew blacker, it thundered at a distance, and the night-owl 
screamed. In the midst of my confusion, I discerned, that 
the being on which I was placed, had two mighty horns. 
Who would have doubted it ? I thought that I was indeed 
riding into the other world. Fear overcame me. All this I 
experienced, or thought I experienced, in little, more than a 
moment. For when I began to recover, I found myself 
stretched on the ground, about twenty yards from the wall. 
It was some time before I could be convinced that I was still 
an inhabitant of the upper world. Never was my unbelief so 
nearly overcome ; never did my philosophy avail me less ; 
never did the tales of old Janet appear so true. I reflected 
how I had laughed at such tales, and pitied the poor beings 
who believed them. * This,' said I, * is, perhaps, a chastise- 
ment for my unbelief I heaven is never without means to 
convince whom it wishes/ I was just about to thank the Al- 
mighty for convincing me, and likewise for delivering me 
from the Evil- One, when the bleating of a sheep — so easily are 
we tempted from our duty — attracted my attention. It was 
answered by others, which, I knew by their bleating, were 
placed near the fatal wall. The single one passed by to join 
the flock. It was a ram with two large horns — the very ani- 
mal which I had unluckily bestrode, when I leaped from the 
wall. All my fear was now at an end ; and I resolved, once 
more, never to believe that witches and fairies ever were, or 
are, or will be. 

" I now began to proceed forward. It rained, and the 

D 



42 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

night was still very dark. I had not advanced many steps 
when I began to hesitate, and knew not whither to direct my 
steps, I saw that in becoming acquainted with Logic, I had 
been becoming less acquainted with travelling through a 
pathless country, in a dark night. I sometimes walked, some- 
times ran, and sometimes stood. In this manner I spent the 
night. It had been a thunder-storm ; the rain was now over ; 
all was calm. I sat down to rest, for I had travelled many 
miles, although, like some more extensive travellers, I had 
travelled them in vain.' 

" The harbingers of the morning now began to scatter the 
night. In my earlier years, it was my chief delight to observe 
the rising sun, in a summer morning. I found myself still 
captivated with the purple tinges of the east. My eyes fol- 
lowed these beautiful visitants of the morning, while they 
travelled over to the west. My soul was pleased. ' Is it/ 
said I, ( to call forth man early to his duty, and to delight 
him at the same time, that the Omnipotent thus beautifies 
the morning ? How wise and how good to man is the 
Almighty I Who would not love and obey so good a 
Lord!' 

" I was, in this manner, contemplating the heavens and 
their Creator, when the great ruler of the day, like a strong 
man rejoicing to run a race, rose on the world. I had often 
seen him rise before, but never did he appear so beautiful as 
now. Darkness had given me much trouble ; light was, on 
that account, more agreeable. I looked round about me, and 
saw that I was at the very border of a cultivated country, 
blooming in all the vigour of commencing summer. * But 
•a little while ago/ said I, ' all this was covered with dark- 
ness.' I turned my eyes towards the sun ; and although I 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 43 

am no poet, as you know, my thoughts, I do not know how^ 
fell into the form of verse, in the following manner : — . 

[Here follows, in the original manuscript, the " Ode to 
the Sun," inserted above, at page 25.~] 

" My thoughts were now all bent on home ; and I turned my 
steps back into the uncultivated country, following the course 
of a winding river. After I had proceeded about two miles 
in this direction, my course was stopped. Here the stream 
rushed from a rock, forming a beautiful arch. A few yards 
below this waterfall, was a little grove, situated in a kind of 
peninsula, described by the windings of the river. The hills 
rose quickly on every side ; here I was hid from every eye. 
' How favourable is this place/ said I, ' for tender lovers ! 
Here the youthful pair might breathe out the fervent tale, 
unseen, save by approving heaven.' I surveyed the place 
attentively. It was the very same which I had heard so often 
renowned as the spot in which Melvan and Liza spent their 
happy hours, before the tyrant father of Liza separated her 
for ever from Melvan's adverse fortune. Here Melvan had 
often talked love with his fair consenting Liza ; and hither he 
often resorted, after she was made the wife of another. I 
reclined myself a few minutes in the little grove. ' This," 
said I, * was, perhaps, the favourite seat of the lovers/ In a 
little opening, in the trunk of a weeping-birch, close by my 
side, I discerned a slip of paper. It was probably left by 
Melvan in some of his solitary visits to the grove. It con- 
tained a few lines, addressed to Liza. The language is some- 
what harsh, and a few of the terms bear marks of the schools ; 
but Melvan was not unlearned. As these lines show the 
happy effect of piety on disappointed love, they may, perhaps, 
not be unpleasing to you. 



44 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

[Here follow, in the original manuscript, the " Lines to 
Liza," inserted above, at page 20.] 

" After spending a few minutes in this sequestered spot, I 
climbed to the top of an eminence, whence I discerned, at a 
little distance, a road which led to my native place. Thither 
I directed my steps ; and about six o'clock I arrived at my 
father's house. The family were all up, for here people have 
not yet learned the unnatural fashion of living in the night, 
and slumbering away the day. I was received, as I knew I 
would be : every countenance, every hand, every tongue, 
welcomed my arrival. 

" After I had recited the adventures of the night, as a 
reason for arriving at so early an hour, and after requesting 
the old servant, John, to awake me at the end of four hours, 
I retired to rest. 

" The old faithful servant awoke me at the moment ap- 
pointed. I walked out to enjoy the scenes of my youthful 
innocence. I reclined myself under the shade of some reve- 
rend trees, which have stood no man living knows how long. 
I looked on the dwelling of my fathers, and surveyed the ad- 
jacent fields. The day was beautiful — every thing was beau- 
tiful — every thing pleased me. I reflected on the hurry of 
the city which I had left, and compared it with this peaceful 
retreat. I turned my eyes again on the dwelling of my 
fathers ; it was venerable, and I thought it pious to indulge 
the following lines : — 

[The " Ode to Moorhouse," mentioned above, at page 28, 
concludes the essay, with the signature and date.] 

In the Logic-class he was, by the suffrages of his class- 
fellows, awarded a prize, which was the first that he received 
at college. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 45 

Of the essays that he wrote for this class, twenty-four 
remain ; and they average a little above eight quarto pages 
a piece. It may be added, that, during most of the session, 
he attended, as a hearer, the readings and criticisms of Pro- 
fessor Young in the private Greek class ; and that there is 
preserved a small note-book, which he used in that class, with 
the following characteristic and appropriate title — " A few of 
the Curiosities and nice Discoveries of the Wonderful Man, 
even the man Professor Young ; for the session 1819-20." 

Throughout the session, he got books from the Logic-class 
library, and read English more extensively and variously than 
he had done hitherto. Among these books, it may be men- 
tioned, were Johnson's " Lives of the Poets," which he 
perused with great avidity and deep interest. 

In the course of the session, he began to learn the French 
language ; and in prosecuting the study of it, he attended 
Mr St Ange Simeon's class an hour a-day for two months ; 
and received a prize for accuracy in translating and in writing 
exercises. After that, he prosecuted the study of the language 
himself, without a teacher ; and this was the only modern or 
living language, besides English, that he ever attempted to 
acquire. 



46 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 



CHAPTER III. 

At the breaking-up of the classes, in the beginning of May, 
Robert retired again to Moorhouse ; and his first care, during 
this vacation, was the recruiting of his health, which had 
been rather encroached on by the labours of the preceding 
session. Still, however, he studied hard, and his reading now 
became more extensive and varied than ever, comprising all 
kinds of books ; of which he continued to receive supplies 
from the Logic-class library. 

The following letter, which he wrote to me, near the mid- 
dle of June, is the best account of him, at the time, that can 
be given ; being his own account of his studies and his spirits, 
his health, feelings, and prospects : — 

" Mr David Pollok, No. 12, Duke Street, Glasgow. 

" Moorhouse, June 13, 1820. 

" Dear Brother, — Accompanying this, are a few lines on 
' Anger.' I would have sent you some more poetry which I 
have occasionally put together ; but I have no paper. 

" I have been studying hard this some time, for I found 
rambling idle did no good to my health. I have been con- 
siderably worse since the commencement of May. My spirits 
have been, for the last two weeks, unusually dull. The pre- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 47 

sent state of my body, and the influence which it has on my 
mind, render my sleep short and precarious. My situation 
is, indeed, not agreeable. To be aiming at literature with- 
out adequate assistance is a hard task ; but to be without 
adequate assistance and stimulating health is harder still. 
When I look to the scholar's unprotected fate, and think, 
that even at this season of the year, my health is rather re- 
trograde, the prospect is indeed gloomy. I have not spoken 
of the state of my health to any person here. But the lowness 
of my spirits is no doubt visible. My constitution is yet strong 
and far from being sickly. Dr Reid, the last time I saw him, 
said there was no danger whatever ; and recommended residing 
a month or two on Arran, and taking occasional sails. The 
rarity of the air, in that quarter, would probably have a good 
effect on the mind ; and the sea-bathing, which I never tried, 
might have an influence of some kind on the body. But to go 
there and be comfortable requires money ; and you know that 
is not to be found. Were I even to get it here, I know so well 
their inability to assist me, that every shilling which I spend 
tortures my soul. I do not write this to hurt your feelings, 
but it gives me some pleasure to communicate my own feel- 
ings to you ; and at the same time, to have your advice in 
return, will afford me great satisfaction. 

« R. Pollok." 

He did not go to reside in Arran, as Dr Reid, his medical 
adviser, had " recommended ; " but in the beginning of Au- 
gust, along with Mr Andrew Bryson, a young gentleman of 
great promise, long since deceased, he took a sail to Dublin, 
where he remained about a fortnight. The only trace of his 
visit to this city, that is to be met with among his papers, is 



48 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the following" stanza of a short piece, entitled " Lines written 
in Phoenix Park, Dublin :" 

" All Nature here to please conspires, 

And Art combines her varied powers ; 
Here, doubly burn the lover's fires ; 

For Love itself hath formed these bowers." 

In a few days after his return, he tried his talents at de- 
scription of real character, in the following letter to me ; 
which, while it expresses some of his opinions, sentiments, 
and feelings, on an interesting and rather popular subject* 
indicates very distinctly the development of his mind : — 

" Moorhouse, Aug. 18, 1820. 
" Dear friend, one moment quit the classic page, 
The modern theorist and the ancient sage, 
With all the depth of philosophic lore, 
Through which your eye has long been taught to pore. 
A brighter theme, the Muse, devoid of fear, 
Presses upon your unaccustomed ear. 
The theme's Maria — who will not attend, 
When all the Muses, unimplored, descend ? 
For when the virtuous fair our theme compose, 
The Muses listen though we speak in prose. 

" My Dear Friend, — Travelling lately in the west of Scot- 
land, I called at the house of a young lady with whom I have 
had some little acquaintance since the year 1815. She is the 
daughter of a reputable farmer ; and during the five years last 
past, has been a successful scholar in the various branches of 
female education, which render the sex more amiable and 
useful, without making them vain and ostentatious. Disgust- 
ed at the inurbanity of manners which prevailed around her, 
this young lady, whom we shall call Maria, at an early age 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 49 

aspired at a habit of life, which might render her more in- 
teresting to the polite and intelligent ; and what she aspired 
at she has attained. 

" As I have observed with delight this tender plant, 
growing up to maturity in female accomplishments, amidst 
circumstances rather unfavourable — amidst circumstances 
which have retained many of Maria's equals, in point of birth, 
known only by ignorance and shameless rudeness, permit me 
to give you a short sketch of her character. Those ought 
to be interesting to all, who, by virtuous means, make them- 
selves more amiable and more useful than the other members 
of that society to which they originally belonged. It was 
attention to those, that civilized mankind; and it is still 
by imitating those useful individuals, that society is carried 
from one degree of improvement to another. 

" Maria's form is handsome, and might measure something 
about middle size. Her hair is black, and sports, in luxuri- 
ant ringlets, on a forehead and neck of a polish and white- 
ness which arrest the eye of the most careless beholder. 
Her eyes are blue, and are met with ease and pleasure, 
always full of the goodness of her heart. Maria's colour is 
not high, nor is she fashionably pale : it is a colour pecu- 
liar to those who are neither exposed to the weather nor en- 
gulfed in dissipation. The whole air of her countenance is 
attractive and easy. Goodness will gaze on her with freedom 
and delight ; wickedness will withdraw its eye ashamed and 
reproved. Such is a faint description of what must strike 
every one when Maria is the object of ocular contemplation. 

" But exterior accomplishments are not all Maria's endow- 
ments. Indeed, that which gives her countenance the most 
fascinating charm is the effect of a mind, animating every 



50 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

feature without compulsion or restraint. Knowing well that 
modesty and some degree of diffidence are indispensable in 
those of the sex who would please, Maria is very different from 
that class of females who have spoken all their days without 
putting themselves to the trouble of thinking. When Maria 
speaks, her hearers are all attention, because she thinks be- 
fore she speaks. Her manners are completely free from 
rudeness ; nor have they dwindled into mere ceremony. Her 
town's education has not had the baleful effect of making her 
like too many, more accomplished and more stupid. She 
possesses the sensibility and guilelessness of the country 
maid, without her awkwardness, or ignorance ; and the re- 
finement and activity of the town's lady, without her whimsi- 
calness, or deception. She pleases without showing too much 
anxiety to please : always cheerful, but never given to bois- 
terous mirth ; because it is inconsistent with her delicacy of 
feeling. In a word, all her demeanour seems rather to be 
produced by Christian goodness, than hammered on the anvil 
of fashion. Hers is that ' sanctity of manners' which is the 
offspring of ' unaffected goodness.' Yes ! religion has shed 
its benignant influences on her soul. It is here that she is 
irresistibly amiable. It is this, speaking in her countenance, 
which charms and animates the good ; which abashes and re- 
proves the bad. Maria's tongue is not bridled by the tram- 
mels of fashion, but by that piety which is not ' vain.' She 
' openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the 
law of kindness.' 

" If Heaven should ever bless Maria with a congenial part- 
ner of life, her heart will beat responsive to his every feeling : 
he will be ' known in the gates, when he sitteth among the 
elders of the land.' Then will it be said of her, ' Many 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 51 

daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.' 
For ' a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.' 

" You have, no doubt, noticed that, in this short sketch of 
Maria's character, I have not mentioned a single fault. Hear 
my reason : I have found none. You are not, however, to 
imagine from this, that I think her perfect; or that the de- 
scription given of her, is the hyperbolical ebullition of a 
blind passion. Unable to call myself by the tender name of 
her friend, I am only an acquaintance. A more intimate 
connexion might discover some faults; but no connexion 
could reasonably discover faults which would not be lost, al- 
most sooner than seen, in that blaze of goodness which per- 
vades every part of her character. As the spots which are 
said to exist in the sun are lost in the bright effulgence of his 
beams ; so Maria's faults, if she have any, are completely hid- 
den in the dispreading luxuriance of her goodness : and as 
the spots in the sun are no obstruction to his cheering, vivi- 
fying, and day-making influences on the earth ; so Maria's 
faults can be no hindrance to her pleasing, animating, and 
soul-brightening influences on those around her. 

" How delightful is it to see youth, and beauty, and good- 
ness, combined in the same female ! What an irresistible 
power over mankind have justice and religion when enforced 
by so winning an admonisher ! Were there sufficient Marias 
in the world, what respect were due to the female character ! 
How much would the eternal interests of mankindbe promoted ! 
How much more rational and satisfactory were the pleasures 
pursued in the world I Then were Lemuel's description of 
a good wife applicable ; then were domestic jarring at an 



52 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

end ; then might it be universally said, c He that findeth a 
wife, findeth a good thing.' 

" With what pleasure will the celestial blessed hover 
around Maria's peaceful abode; mark her strengthening 
every virtuous principle, from the oracles of truth ; see her 
imbuing every youthful mind about her with the sanctity of 
her own ; and behold her bowing, unseen by the world, and 
pouring out her soul, in all the sweetness of the purest devo- 
tion, to her Creator and Redeemer ! With what satisfaction 
and delight will her guardian angel watch over every emo- 
tion of her soul ; guard her against every temptation ; and 
fill her mind, by heavenly commission, with the raptures felt 
above ! At every new conquest of her soul over the innate 
corruption of her heart ; at every new development of virtue 
in her mind ; at the termination of the duties of her every 
day, how will these watching spirits vie, in holy ardour, with 
one another, to be the messengers of the happy tidings to 
the celestial courts ! Nay, with what infinite delight will 
Jehovah, the Creator of the ends of the earth, look down on 
this tender offspring of his hands ! With early piety — with 
the humble and contrite in heart, the Lord delights to dwell. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" N.B. I have not read over the above, but you can cor- 
rect its errors. 

" Try to get some good book on moral philosophy. I in- 
tend to be in Glasgow soon — perhaps next week. I would 
willingly receive a sheet or two of paper from you, inked on 
any subject. 

« R. P." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 53 

Early this summer, lie began to keep a eommonpface-book. 
It consists of forty pages octavo, and is closely Written from 
beginning to end. The first seven pages register his own 
thoughts, or record facts which have come under his own 
observation ; and the rest are occupied with historical state- 
ments from his course of reading. 

The following selections from the first seven pages of the 
book, it is presumed, may be acceptable to the reader : 

" Commonplace-Book, June 9th, 1820. 

« R. Pollok. 

" Men become bachelors from these various causes : 1. 
Some from thoughtlessness and carelessness. 2. Some from 
early disappointments. 3. Some from the hurry of business. 
4. Some from picturing too much to themselves all the evils 
that may attend marriage. 5. Some from a narrow worldly 
spirit which cannot think to share the bounties of Providence 
with another. 

" Among equals, the best method to exhaust anger and to 
diminish it for the future, appears to me, to be to maintain 
an obstinate taciturnity in its presence, and to disobey all 
that is urged by it. 

" Indolence and pride the worst of evils. 

" The happiness, or rather pleasure, which shines on the 
inhabitants of earth, may be ranked in two general classes. 
The first class comprehends all that pleasure which is purely 
mental ; the second that which relates, in a more particular 
manner, to the body. Of this last kind of pleasure there is 
one source which I have never seen mentioned by the specu- 
lators on happiness, and which, in my opinion, contributes a 
very exquisite bodily feast, although, like all the enjoyments 



54 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

of the more corporeal kind, it is very evanescent. The plea- 
sure which I mean is that enjoyed by a weary mortal, who, 
by some external or internal circumstance of no afflictive 
kind, has been roused from his slumbers two hours or three 
before sleep has completed its renewing work on his body ; 
and who believes, at the same time, that his proper season 
for sleep is fully elapsed. When all this, I say, happens to 
the weary son of the dust, and just when it has happened, if 
the sound of the measurer of time, or any other compas- 
sionate messenger, tell him that his season of repose is not 
yet finished — that two or three hours are to be added to the 
years that are past, before it become his duty to rise — with 
what riotous delight does the half-refreshed mortal place his 
head on his pillow, fling his limbs carelessly abroad on their 
fascinating support, cling with his whole body to the bed in 
sleepy joy, and return to his needed repose ! Does any 
person laugh at this pleasure, and call it carnal ? Let him 
call it so. In the midst of such delight my heart has swelled 
with gratitude to heaven ; and what makes me grateful to 
God deserves my respectful attention — deserves not the scof- 
fing laugh of mortals." 

But the principal thing that he did at this time, was 
writing an " Essay on the External Senses and the Means of 
Improving them," in competition for a prize which Professor 
Jardine announced, at the close of the preceding session, for 
the best on the subject, to be written during the vacation, by 
any student who had attended his class that session ; and he 
was successful in his competition — the decision being given in 
his favour. The Essay extends to a hundred and four quarto 
pages, and is considered too long and abstruse for this work. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 55 

It is thought proper to give an account here of all the 
"poetry" that he "occasionally put together" after the 
spring of 1816, when he composed his first piece, up to the 
summer of this year inclusive. 

In regard to this " poetry," whatever be its quality, it is 
considerable in quantity and variety- It is all written in a 
book, consisting of sixty pages, large quarto, in a marbled 
paste-board cover. His name is inscribed on the first page, 
and on the third is this notice : " The little pieces which 
are written in this book are all in an uncorrected state." 
The fourth contains the following Latin motto : 

" Non jam prima peto Mnestheus, " 

"Extremos pudeat rediise; " 

The poetry begins on the fifth page, and extends to the 
end of the book. There are twenty pieces of it altogether, 
the " Ode to Moorhouse" standing first in order; and all 
are original but four, of which two are translations, and two 
are paraphrases. Three of the pieces are the " Lines to 
Liza," " Ode to the Sun," and the " Translation" from Virgil, 
inserted above ; and five of them, namely, " Ode to Moor- 
house," " A Hymn," " David's Lamentation over Saul 
and Jonathan," " Christ's Resurrection," and " The Dis- 
tressed Christian to his Soul," which stands last in the book, 
are inserted at the end of the Life, along with selections from 
his later occasional poetry. The rest of them are suppressed. 

Early in November, he returned to college for the session 
of 1820-21, and joined the Moral Philosophy class, under 
Professor Mylne. To this class he had looked forward with 
great pleasure and high anticipations. He expected much 
from the science taught in it, and he had often heard of the 



56 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

clear head, and clear thinking and writing of Professor 
Mylne. Nor was he disappointed: Mr Mylne, as he ob- 
served to me, one day, in the course of the session, was all 
that was said of him, and his lectures were as interesting as 
he anticipated. 

In this class, besides regular examinations on the lectures, 
of which there was one delivered every day, one essay a-week 
was prescribed to the students ; and voluntary essays were 
received from such as chose to give them in. The weekly 
essays were read in the class by the students themselves, and 
the voluntary ones were given in to the Professor, who men- 
tioned them to the class, and read either the whole or a part 
of them, according to circumstances. 

In the duties of the class, Robert engaged, from the very 
first, with great spirit, and he displayed, in discharging them, 
more energy than he did in any of the preceding classes. 
From the outset, he seemed determined to do something, and 
he continued intent on his purpose. His soul was in his 
work. To the Professor's lectures he listened with great 
attention, and was diligent and successful in taking notes of 
them, of which there are preserved four octavo volumes, 
amounting to two hundred and thirty pages. In his prepa- 
rations for the class, at his room, No. 20, North Portland 
Street, he was most assiduous, persevering, and unremitting 
in his application to study. Besides the weekly essays, 
he wrote at intervals a number of voluntary ones, and on all 
of them he bestowed much labour both in thought and ex- 
pression. Before putting pen to paper, he made himself 
master, by reading and thinking, but chiefly by the latter, of 
the subject on which he was about to write, and then he pro- 
ceeded to compose with great carefulness. He took much pains 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 57 

in his composition, especially in regard to precision of lan- 
guage and style ; being determined, as he sometimes remarked, 
to say what he should say, and what he wanted to say. He 
and I wrote together at the same table, and he sometimes 
exclaimed, looking across it to me, when he felt a difficulty 
to express himself as he wished, " If a man could put his ideas 
on paper exactly as they are in his own head ! — if he could 
let another see them as he sees them himself! — or if we could 
write as well as we can think ! " 

In this class his mind was much expanded, and he made 
great and marked progress in thinking and writing. Among 
the advantages which he derived from it, was learning 
to distrust books, and if not to think, at least to decide, 
for himself. He once said to me, " Till I heard Mr Mylne 
lecture, I never thought of calling in question the opinion 
of an author. If it differed from mine, I thought it must be 
right, and my own wrong. But, in Mr Mylne's class, I was 
set free, for ever, from the trammels of book-authority ; I lost 
all deference to authors, and opinions, and names ; and learned, 
not only to think and decide for myself, but to test severely 
my own opinions." 

In composing the elaborate essays for this class, his mind 
was well-disciplined to close consecutive thinking, to calm 
sound moral reasoning, and to clear definite writing. His 
prose style was so much improved, that he wrote, ever after, 
not only with greater facility, but with more precision, 
energy, and correctness. Henceforward, he could " let 
another see things as he saw them himself " — he could, with- 
out effort, " write as well as he could think." 

At the deciding of the prizes, he was awarded one by the 



58 THE LIFE OF EOBERT POLLOK. 

votes of his class-fellows ; and this was the third and last 
prize that he took in going through college. 

Throughout the session, he availed himself of his privilege 
of attending, as a hearer, the lectures of Professor Young in 
the private Greek class ; and towards the close of the session, 
he wrote a verse translation of the first chorus of Sophocles' 
" King CEdipus," in competition for a prize which the Pro- 
fessor announced for the best English translation in verse of 
that chorus, written by any of his students : but it was not 
successful. 

The essays which he wrote for the Moral Philosophy 
class have all been preserved. There are twenty-three of 
them altogether ; and they vary in length, from three quarto 
pages to thirteen, averaging nearly eight pages a piece. 
Two are in verse — the one on " Divine Benignity," and the 
other " A Tale Illustrating the Unity of Justice and Bene- 
volence." When the session closed, at the beginning of 
May, he retired to Moorhouse, in ordinary health ; and he 
began the vacation with English reading and composition. 

In a week or two after he went home, he delivered an 
address, in the United Secession Church at Eaglesham, on 
the duty of sending the gospel to the heathen, for a society, 
designated " The Eaglesham Association for Religious Pur- 
poses," instituted in the January of that year. This was the 
first time that he spoke in public ; and several individuals 
who heard him, say they well remember that he spoke with 
much energy, and that the audience was highly pleased with 
him. The address is preserved in his hand- writing as it was 
then spoken ; and it may be inserted here, not only as the first 
thing that he delivered in public, but as showing his attain- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 59 

ments in theology, as well as his zeal for the propagation of 
the gospel, at the time when it was written — the middle of his 
twenty-third year. It is as follows : — 

" Mr President, — With pleasure I take this opportunity 
of expressing my approbation of the spirit, order, and energy 
which have formed and conducted your Society. And I 
would especially congratulate you, with all the other members 
of the Society, for the noble purpose of your exertions. Had 
you been only endeavouring to feed the hungry, clothe the 
naked, or shed one ray of comfort on the dreary inhabitant 
of the dungeon, who would not have applauded the humanity 
and righteousness of your motive ? But when I know that 
your design is to clothe the spiritually naked, to emancipate 
the slaves of the devil, to salute with the voice of mercy 
those who are rushing heedlessly on in the disastrous mazes 
and noisome damps of spiritual night, and to persuade them 
into that bright path whose issue is everlasting life ; may I 
not ask who would not hasten to be one of your number ? 
And, indeed, the strong attachment to knowledge, truth, and 
religion, and the strong aversion to ignorance, error, and 
superstition, which prevail among the enlightened in your 
vicinity, have already rendered the list of your subscribers 
very respectable. To you and to them, Mr President, I 
would beg leave to say, ye shall not miss your reward. To 
the good man the consciousness of having designed good is a 
great reward ; but the accomplishment of his design is a 
greater. Your infant Society has, perhaps, not yet seen nor 
heard of its fruits, and been glad ; but as it is beginning to 
co-operate with those which have been abundantly blessed in 
plucking so many brands out of the burning, what may you 



60 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

not expect ? I know that you and the other members of this 
Society have no greater joy than to hear, that, by the bless- 
ing of God on the exertions of British Christians, thousands 
have been liberated from the imbruting fetters of ignorance 
and superstition, lifted up from vile prostration to deaf and 
dumb idols, and taught the honourable worship of the living 
God. You need not to be informed, nor, I trust, any in your 
Society, how rapid, of late, has been the flight, and how wide 
the conquests, of that angel which flies in the midst of heaven^ 
having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell 
on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, 
and people ; and how widely he is proclaiming with a loud 
voice, * Fear God, and give glory to him ; for the hour of 
his judgment is come : and worship Him who made heaven, 
and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of water/ To 
what I have said, I know you are prepared to give full credit. 
And to the uninformed and unbelieving, let existing facts 
bear witness. Let them listen, through the medium of the 
most authentic communications, some of which have been 
sealed with blood, to praises of Messiah, which are now 
heard, here and there, from the rising to the setting sun. 
Let them behold, and it is a pleasing sight, the shivering 
Greenlander, whose mind, for many past ages, like his wintry 
seas, has been frozen and benumbed by the cold breath of 
ignorance, and shrouded in darkness, now illuminated, melted, 
invigorated, and fructified by the all-enlivening beams of 
< The Sun of Righteousness.' Let them behold many a 
thirsty African, in the midst of his burning deserts, drinking 
of the immortal waters of the river of life, and eating of the 
fruit of that tree * whose leaves are for the healing of the 
nations,' Let them turn their minds to the banks of the 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 61 

Indus and the Ganges, and hear the howlings of the beasts 
of prey, and the battle-shout of warring savages, broken, 
here and there, by the sweet warblings of Immanuel's praise. 
Let them see the simple Hindoos, casting their deaf and dumb 
* idols to the moles and to the bats/ and flying, like doves, 
to the windows of salvation. Let them hear, with gratitude 
and delight, the hallelujahs of Euxine's shores respond to the 
hosannas of the Caspian ; while the immortal standard of the 
Cross waves the ensigns of peace on Caucausus' lofty brow. 
Let them behold the Persian, instead of travelling to Mecca, 
offering up to the Creator and Redeemer the incense of a 
broken spirit and a pure heart. Nor have America's isles of 
slavery been altogether barren of ' the fruits of righteous- 
ness/ Although there, hand has joined in hand to darken 
the glooms of ignorance, strengthen the shackles of slavery, 
and widen the waste places of death, yet, even there, may be 
seen immortal souls eluding the grasp of oppression ; escaping 
the thick clouds of meditated ignorance ; and, in the chariot 
of salvation, triumphing away to the city of eternal refuge. 
No one needs to be told, that, only a few years ago, through- 
out all these nations and people, not one beam of celestial 
day broke into the horrid gloom of their spiritual night ; not 
one of their songs of praise saluted the ear of Zion's King. 
By the blessing of God on the exertions of Bible and Mis- 
sionary Societies, * the wilderness and the solitary place are 
glad ; the desert rejoices, and blossoms as the rose, . . . 
the glory of Lebanon is given unto it, the excellency of Car- 
mel and Sharon: they see the glory of the Lord, and the 
excellency of our God. . . . The inhabitants of the rock 
sing, they shout from the top of the mountains. They give 
glory unto the Lord, and declare his praise in the islands/ 



62 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Let these things bear witness that the word of the Lord is, 
indeed, not returning * to him void ;' and that he is not call- 
ing men, in vain, to go up with him to battle. 

" But were I to say, that the present contemplation of the 
victorious march of truth in the lands of ignorance was all 
the reward which awaits the Christian's exertions, I would 
be speaking apart from the words of inspiration. When this 
world, with all its enjoyments, has passed away, when gold 
cannot purchase one luxurious dish to the voluptuary, nor 
one moment's repose to the careless, nor one grim smile to 
the earth-grasping miser, then shall the exertions of the 
Christian receive their full reward. When that Christian, 
who has been the means of spiritually enlightening the mind 
of a fellow-creature, has ' put on immortality/ when he is 
reposing himself on the ever-verdant banks of the river of 
life, then from him shall be heard a louder note of praise 
swelling the eternal hosannas of heaven. How much will it 
add to his endless bliss to shake hands, in the regions of 
immortality, with some, once inhabitant of the desert, whom 
he has been permitted by his benefactions to be the means of 
elevating from the wastes of darkness, suffering, and death, 
and of placing amid the brightness of immortal day, and the 
felicities of eternal life. His services have been greater, and 
his reward shall be proportioned to his services. * The 
liberal soul shall be made fat ; and he that watereth shall be 
watered also himself.' The i wise, ' or the teachers, ' shall 
shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that 
turn,' or are instrumental in turning, ' many to righteous- 
ness, as the stars for ever and ever.' Verily, all who serve 
Christ shall find that his ' reward is with him.' 

" But after all this, after all the good which is produced 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 63 

on mankind, and all the glory which redounds to God, by 
the exertions of Christians, in undeceiving the nations, many 
refuse to cast a single mite into the treasuary of Christ. The 
man who acts in this manner must be extremely indolent, 
if he can give no reason for his conduct. Of those who are 
in this assembly, if there are any, who have it in their power 
to join your Society, and yet join it not, I would beg leave 
to ask how they justify their conduct. Is it said by some, 
< We are, indeed, willing to 'lend unto the Lord/ but we 
have received so sparingly of the favours of fortune, that we 
have nothing to give ? ' If this apology have truth for its 
foundation, they who make it are more than excusable. He 
with whom they have do takes the will for the deed ; and 
they shall not miss their reward. But how few can, with 
sincerity, plead this excuse ? A little attention to economy 
would enable almost the poorest to contribute, less or more, 
to the funds of knowledge. Let them not imagine, that the 
Searcher of hearts will reject or overlook the smallness of 
the gift. He measures not the love and gratitude of his 
creature by the largeness of the sum bestowed, but by the 
willingness of the heart. In the eyes of Jesus Christ, ' the 
two mites ' of ' the poor widow ' were more precious than 
all the lordly sums of the rich. 

" Others may be heard saying, ' We satisfy all the de- 
mands of the civil law : the hire of the workman never 
abides in our pocket ; we give good weight and good mea- 
sure, and we ' owe no man any thing ;' and,' complimenting 
themselves, continue they, ' it were well for the world if all 
men acted after the same manner.' 

" Such men I would wish very much to undeceive. I do 
not hesitate to say, that it is not true that the man who 



64 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

possesses abundance, and at the same time is charitable only 
according to civil law, owes * no man any thing.' Whoever 
does less good than his circumstances justify, sins against 
his fellow creatures, and is really their debtor. Much has 
been given him, that he may give much to succour the father- 
less and widow, and to administer the bread of life to the 
hungry soul. Every poor man whom he sends empty from 
his door, and every benighted soul which he might have been 
the means of illuminating, will witness against him at that 
bar whence there is no appeal. 

" But, if the uncompassionate rich man still persist in say- 
ing — and what man can hinder him? — that he owes his fellow- 
creatures nothing, shall he persist in saying that he owes 
nothing to his God ? ' Cast thy bread upon the waters,' says 
the High One ; ' for thou shalt find it after many days/ 
* No,' replies the incompassionate, * I will do what civil law 
compels me ; but I will not cast one handful to the gleaner.' 
And because the sword of justice slumbers, he triumphs in 
the rectitude of his answer. But let him beware lest it be 
said concerning him, ' Let the tares grow until the harvest ;' 
and then shall the Lord of all things ask the unmerciful man, 
< Where is the increase of my talents? What hadst thou 
that thou didst not receive of me ? Freely thou receivedst, 
freely thou shouldst have given. Thou hast shown no mercy, 
and dost thou expect mercy for thyself? Bind him, and cast 
him into prison. Verily he shall not come out thence till he 
has paid the uttermost farthing.' 

" With all these strong arguments against them, with the 
Lord of hosts against them, shall there still be some found, 
who not only ' withhold more than is meet,' but still claim 
to themselves the epithets of just, good, humane, and the 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 65 

like, and would frown indignantly were you to tell them that 
they have no right to the appellations ? I am sorry that any 
of my fellow-creatures are unworthy to be called just and 
compassionate ; and I am unwilling to stigmatize any with the 
name of wickedness. But let Christians not be imposed upon. 
' The vile person ' ought not to be ' called liberal, nor the 
churl bountiful.' Whatever the characters to which we have 
been alluding may think or say of themselves, they deserve 
and ought to be called, unjust, unsympathizing, haters of 
God and of mankind, lovers of ignorance, superstition, and 
death. 

" Many who unrighteously withhold the succours of the 
destitute, and who pretend to shelter themselves under the 
propriety of their conduct, would find the genuine reason for 
their manner of acting, in their own strong propensities to 
the pleasures of sense. Like the man of old who could not 
come up to the feast, because he had ' married a wife,' they 
had much better say the truth, that they can contribute no- 
thing for the good of their fellow-creatures, or the glory of 
God, because it requires all they can spare to satisfy the 
cravings of their lawless passions. This, I admit, may seem 
a very potent excuse in the eyes of him who makes it. Ap- 
petites and passions are powerful pleaders. But he who pre- 
fers their plea to his who is perishing for want of the bread 
of life, possesses a spirit at the same time mean and cruel. 
He is endeavouring to destroy others, that he may destroy 
himself. He cares not how much he lavish on those who 
vegetate, luxuriate, and rot, in their own moral turpitude, if 
he can but drink a little of their delicious poison. With 
what eyes will the pure hosts of heaven look down on the 
poor wretch ? He will give nothing, that he may conduct a 

F 



66 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

soul up to heaven ; but lie will give abundance, that his own 
may be driven down to hell. Surely ' Nabal is his name, 
and folly is with him.' 

" Another class of those who cannot see it their duty to 
cast away money among the heathen, would find, were they 
to enquire, the true reason for this sight of their duty, in 
their unwillingness to part with money at all. The miser, 
or the man whose ruling passion is the love of gold, will al- 
ways find some reason with which he will pretend to justify 
the gratification of his favourite propensity. Such a being 
is generally heard saying, ' Had that poor man been indus- 
trious, he need have been asking alms from no one. To that 
other poor wretch it were vain to give any thing, for he 
squanders it away in criminal enjoyments. Something might 
be given for the benefit of the heathen, but that something 
would have to pass through so many hands, that really I am 
afraid it would never reach them. The world is so villanous 
now-a-days, who can be trusted ? ' With such sophistries as 
these, the lover of gold labours to deceive himself and the 
world. But the plain truth is, he is a worshipper of Mam- 
mon, and cannot be a worshipper of God. He cannot follow 
. Christ, because he loves large possessions. 

" With such a being as this it is almost in vain to argue. 
So thickly is he enveloped in darkness, that he has mistaken 
this world for his everlasting abode. Should you tell him 
that the most industrious and virtuous are sometimes baffled 
by fortune, and thrown over on the sympathies of charity ; 
should you picture to him the tears of the widowed mother, 
and the wailings of the naked orphan ; should you insist that 
he ought candidly to consider the combination of unhappy 
circumstances which has led the wretched votary of guilt 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 67 

down to his present degradation— should you represent the 
seeds of virtue still living in his breast, the throes of remorse 
which sometimes agonize his soul, and the wistful look which 
he casts back on virtue, bewailing the hour that seduced him 
from her happy path, and tell him that were he candidly to 
consider these things, that then, instead of saluting the guilt- 
blotted wretch with reproaches, or turning away in proud 
contempt, he would see it his duty to stoop down in mercy, 
instruct, comfort, relieve ; should you assure him that men of 
the most stubborn honesty and tried fidelity have the man- 
agement of the funds designed for the benefit of the heathen, 
his answer would still be, ' There is, indeed, much distress 
and much ignorance ; but then, impostors are so numerous, 
and, in fact, the world has been so active in accomplish- 
ing its own wretchedness, that really it deserves no help.' 
From a being of this kind I would gladly turn away my 
eyes : he is the greatest disgrace to humanity, and the 
most inveterate enemy to the spirit of Christianity. It 
were well would he consider who is his enemy. He 
who loves not his brethren of mankind has his Maker for 
his enemy. He that is not merciful, how shall he obtain 
mercy ? His gold and his silver shall not be able to deliver 
him in the day of the Lord's wrath. But why should we 
argue with him? He has ' joined himself to idols : let him 
alone.' You need not be concerned, Mr President, about the 
want of his assistance. Let him bow down to his cankered 
heaps, and aggrandize them « for the last days.' Without his 
aid your enterprize shall be successful. He is on your side 
who calls all worlds and all their fulness his own. 

" I can scarcely believe that any Gallios hear me — any 
who never enquire into their duty, and, therefore, suppose they 



68 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

never violate it. It would be easy, I think, to convince such 
persons, that he who continues to live willingly ignorant of 
his duty, continues willingly to violate his duty. But I beg 
leave only to request that all such persons would devote one 
hour, and the hour would not be lost, to the contemplation of 
the worth of an immortal soul. And it would, perhaps, not be 
unprofitable for them to recollect at the same time, that there 
will be no unconcerned spectators at the day of judgment. 
' He that is not with me/ says Christ, i is against me.' 

" Are there some again who say, ' Why so much concern 
about Christianising the heathen ? The Lord will hasten it 
in his time. We pray daily that Christ's kingdom may come ; 
and that is sufficient. We leave the rest to Him who work- 
eth, and none can let it.' The fallacy and selfishness of this 
reasoning are extremely palpable. The Lord will, indeed, 
hasten the time when men ' shall fear his name from the west, 
and his glory from the rising of the sun.' It is truly he who 
1 worketh, and none shall let it.' But he worketh by his ser- 
vants, and his servants must be supported. It is by 'many* 
running ' to and fro* that * knowledge' is * increased ; ' and it 
is by the blessing of God on the contributions of Christians 
that ' many' are enabled to ' run to and fro.' It is very right 
that all should pray for the enlightening of the nations. But 
can a man consistently pray that Christ's kingdom may come, 
and yet say in his heart at the same time, ' I would not give 
one farthing for its advancement. Let the heathen be con- 
verted ; but let none of the expenses come on me.' The 
Christian, if Christian he can be called, who acts thus, re- 
sembles very much the physician who should fall down on his 
knees, and pray that this or that medicine might be blessed 
for the recovery of his patient, while he diligently withheld 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 69 

from the patient the medicine itself. Would any person be- 
lieve that the physician who acted in this manner was in ear- 
nest ? And who shall believe that man to be in earnest, who 
has it in his power, and yet contents himself with praying-, if 
praying it can be called, for the advancement of Christ's king- 
dom ? May he not expect this reception from the Father of 
spirits — * Go first feed the hungry, and clothe the naked ; 
and then bring thy gift to the altar ? ' That Christ will pro- 
vide the means for increasing the number of his worshippers 
is true. But will not the wealthy man, who does no more 
than wish the gospel well, be likely to meet the fate of Me- 
roz ? Barak discomfited Sisera and all his chariots, and all 
his host ; yet says the angel of the Lord, ' Curse ye Meroz, 
curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof, because they came 
not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against 
the mighty/ 

" I hope there are few in your vicinity who firmly oppose 
theselves to the designs of your Society ; few who maintain, 
that the heathen are beings of an order inferior to us, and, 
therefore, deserve not our serious attention. Proud mortals ! 
might we not ask, Has not the most ignorant savage an 
immortal soul ? and is not the happiness or misery of that 
soul to be measured by eternity ? If he is inferior to the 
proudest of Europe's sons, it is only because his means of im- 
provement have been inferior. The savage is ignorant, be^ 
cause he has not the means of acquiring knowledge ; and on 
this account is he less deserving of our sympathy ? Is it not, 
in fact, because he is ignorant and imbruted, that he requires 
our illuminating aid ? ' They that are whole need not a phy- 
sician.' Whoever opposes himself to the civilization of the 
heathen, must be destitute of divine love. Did Christ leave 



70 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the glory of his Father's right hand, and expose himself to 
the wrath of God, that he might save his equals ? or did he 
not rather do all this, that he might save the rebels to his 
government, the worms of his footstool ? And shall the 
proudest of the sons of earth think his fellow-worm beneath 
his notice ? Those who talk of the worthlessness of the heathen 
are generally among that filthy number who are afraid lest 
the slavery of mankind cease. They know very well, that 
were all the tribes of earth brought to ' the knowledge of the 
truth,' they would soon be stronger than their task-masters, 
and fling from them the disgraceful bands of slavery. But 
let oppressors do their utmost : they shall never be able to 
counteract your designs. He who fights for you, is stronger 
than they who fight against you. The wicked may < take 
counsel together against the Lord, and against his Anointed ;' 
but ' He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh : the Lord 
shall have them in derision/ And what shall they do when 
the Lord of hosts takes up ( the weapons of his indignation/ 
and ' mustereth the host of the battle ? ' Verily the sable 
African shall not always be a prey : he shall yet ' rule over 
his oppressors ; ' for the Lord * shall give to his Son the hea- 
then for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth 
for his possession.' 

" Some may be ready to conclude, that, if the accounts 
which they hear of the prosperous advance of the gospel in 
the lands of darkness be true, sufficient has been already done 
for the good of the heathen. A little enquiry, however, would 
prevent every one from drawing this conclusion. The angel 
on the white horse is, indeed, making rapid conquests ; but 
much remains yet to be subdued. I will not take up your 
time in recounting to you the numerous nations that are, at 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 71 

this moment, l without God, and without hope in the world ;' 
and the millions of their inhabitants that debase human na- 
ture, by the endless absurdities of their superstitions, and the 
wild cruelty of their sacrifices. These are facts of which 
few are ignorant. We are glad to have it to say, that much 
has been contributed for the benefit of the heathen ; and that 
much good these contributions have done. But, as it is ob- 
served by a writer in ' The Christian Monitor,' * The trans- 
lation of the Bible into the various languages of mankind, and 
giving them a circulation corresponding to the wants of the 
destitute ; the preparation of missionaries for their interest- 
ing work, sending them to scenes of active operation, and 
maintaining them in their destinations, not only when ac- 
quiring the languages they are afterwards to use, but while 
informing the minds of those whom they address, inspir- 
ing them with Christian tempers, and convincing them that 
the gospel-labourer ' is worthy of his hire/ require an ex- 
tent of funds which the inconsiderate are unable to calcu 
late, and the parsimonious unwilling to advance.' Now, 
unless funds sufficient for this purpose are advanced, much 
of what has been done must be rendered ineffectual. The 
glimmerings of day, which have penetrated the realms of 
darkness, shall be driven back. In the world, the territories 
of the devil are yet much wider than the dominions of the 
Messiah ; and shall the Christian, the soldier of Jesus Christ, 
desert his Master in the midst of the battle ? Shall he not 
rather press onward that he may rejoice in the triumph of 
the victory ? 

" Before I conclude, Mr President, I would request this 
audience to take a serious view of the poor savage, half-fed 



72 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

and half-clothed, wandering in some dreary forest, amidst 
toil and hazard, to gather, from among the beasts of the field, 
a precarious and scanty fare. Mark him again, in the dark- 
ness of midnight, take his dagger in his hand, leave his 
home, and, full of revenge for some real or supposed in- 
jury, burst into the hovel of his slumbering neighbour, and, 
without ever awaking him, plunge the dagger into his breast, 
while the screaming of women and children only hastens the 
murderous weapon into their own hearts. Observe the bloody 
wretch cast an eye of grim delight over the mangled remains 
of his fellow-mortals, and then return to his home, exulting 
in the horrid deed. Behold him now holding his hands above 
his head till they are withered away ; or measuring with his 
body the length of many leagues ; or wresting his own child 
from the breast of the trembling mother, and casting it into 
the merciless flames to appease the wrath of some imaginary 
malignant deity. See him at last, taken by enemies no less 
cruel than himself, and thrown into dark loathsomeness, 
where his flesh is cut away, piece by piece, or agonized with 
the mortal bite of remorseless serpents. Or see his enemies, 
impatient for his inmost blood, and wishing to please the god 
who, they suppose, has delivered him into their hands, cast 
him alive into the burning pile. See him tossing and writh- 
ing in the deathful fires. Hear him calling on stocks and 
stones to come and save him ; or mark him, with stubborn 
endurance braving his fate, or shuddering in the very last 
gasp, lest he should fall into the hands of some cruel being 
which will rejoice in making him eternally wretched. And 
what mind would venture to follow him further ? ' Where 
there is no vision the people perish.' 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 73 

" Let no one imagine all this a fable. I am not willing 
to represent misery more miserable than it is. Such or 
similar events really fill up the life of thousands of our fellow- 
creatures. And shall a man still retain the name of Christian, 
and yet look on all this with indifference ? 

it Were I but to hint to the females in this assembly, how 
wretched a life the female savage endures — were I to tell 
them that she is literally the slave of her stupid lord — that, 
subjected to continual drudgery, without ever enjoying his 
approving smile, she toils out a life of unmingled bitterness 
— that when she has laboriously prepared a repast for her 
sluggish master, however keen her appetite, she must wait 
till he has fully satisfied himself, and then seem well pleased 
with the morsel which he condescends to leave — and that, if 
she happen, in the slightest degree, to offend against his ca- 
price, torture and death are the immediate punishment in- 
flicted on the helpless woman — were I to tell them that the 
condition of their own sex among savages is so truly miser- 
able, that many women put their female infants to death, lest, 
by continuing their life, they should entail upon them the 
wretchedness of their mothers — were I to tell my female 
hearers further, that such will be the state of their own 
sex among savages, till the understandings of the men are 
enlightened by knowledge, and their hearts softened by the 
mild influences of Christianity — were my female hearers but 
requested to look on this picture, I am persuaded there is not 
one among them that has so hard a heart, or that looks with 
so little contempt on the vanities of life, but would make it 
possible to convey less or more into the funds of your Society. 
What one among them would deny herself that delightful 
task, the sweet satisfaction of elevating the degraded of her 



74 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

own sex to that Honourable place in the scale of life, which 
European women so deservedly enjoy? 

" In conclusion, I would say that you have much to expect 
from the general good sense which prevails in your vicinity. 
Your list of subscribers, as we said, is already very respect- 
able ; and we trust that those who have hitherto discounte- 
nanced you will no longer shelter themselves under refuges 
of lies. To every Christian the heathen are calling, with 
the voice of ardent entreaty, ' Come over and help us against 
the armies of eternal death.' And the King of Zion is com- 
manding all his hosts to go up with him to battle ; and who 
shall linger behind ? who shall deny himself the honour of 
the victory ? Who would stop the river of life in its course, 
and snatch the heavenly manna from the hungry soul ? None, 
I am persuaded, of those who hear me. They will exert them- 
selves with all their might, that they may see the darkness 
of superstition and ignorance dissipated by the effulgence of 
knowledge and true religion ; that they may see tyranny, 
oppression, and slavery, with all their relentless abettors, and 
all their chains and burdens, ' cast into the lake of fire ;' 
that they may behold hell-nursed vice and horrid war, with 
all their wastes, and famines, and groans, and weapons of 
death, thrown down into utter darkness ; while heaven-bred 
virtue and blissful peace smile over all the earth, with truth 
and liberty, happiness and immortality, triumphing in their 
train. Yes, Mr President, they all wish to hail that happy 
day, when every shadow shall vanish before the Sun of Right- 
eousness ; when the devil and his angels shall be cast out 
of the earth ; when ' incense and a pure offering ' shall be 
presented to Zion's King, from the rising to the setting 
sun ; when the universal voice of the rational creation shall 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 15 

be * Hosanna to the King of Israel ! blessed is he that 
cometh in the name of the Lord!' when salvation shall 
' triumph gloriously/ 

' And peaceful nations own the Prince of Peace.' 

" If, then, the arrival of this happy era be their great desire, 
let them be fellow-workers with Christ ; let them cast their 
mite into his treasury, and they need fear no want of success. 
Verily, i the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all 
flesh shall see it together : for the mouth of the Lord hath 
spoken it.' " 



76 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Towards the end of May, Robert wrote what he called a 
" Discussion on Compositional Thinking," in a letter to a 
friend. Besides expressing his views on an important subject, 
indicating the development of his mind, and marking his pro- 
gress in thinking and writing, it seems calculated to be useful 
to students, and especially to Scotch students, when, like him- 
self, accustoming themselves to composition. On this ac- 
count it is inserted here : — 

" Moorhouse, May 28, 1821. 
" Dear Friend, — I have frequently heard you speak of the 
difficulty of expressing thought clearly and elegantly in lan- 
guage. This has led me to reflect often on the subject of com- 
position ; and I have been compelled to differ considerably 
from the critics on this subject. It is generally found recorded 
in some corner of every critic's works, ' That he who thinks 
clearly and elegantly, will not fail to speak and write clearly 
and elegantly also.' This sentiment, although it has often 
been promulgated from the critic's tribunal, with all the autho- 
rity of a Pythian oracle, I am, nevertheless, inclined to con- 
trovert, nay, even disbelieve. Did every one write his ver- 
nacular language, it is probable that every one would clearly 
express what he clearly understood. But if one has spoken 
the Scotch language for twenty years, and seen part only of 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 77 

the English stored up in books, how is it possible that he can 
write with ease in English ? Would it be just to say that the 
Scotch farmer was a confused thinker, because he could not 
describe the beauty of his fields, or the formation of his 
plough, in the English tongue ? If this would be unjust, 
it is equally so to arraign the Scotch student's talents, be- 
cause, in his outset, he expresses himself with sluggishness 
and perplexity. Every Scotchman who learns to write good 
English, must first learn, from books, the English lan- 
guage. In this country the English is a ' dead language : ' 
it is never used except in studied orations. To write in a 
language in which we have not been accustomed to think, 
seems to be the peculiar privilege of the critic. Of this the 
opinion we have been endeavouring to condemn, is a sufficient 
proof. Did the Scotch critic submit to the drudgery of 
thinking, before he pronounced every Scotchman an oaf who 
could not write easily and correctly in the English tongue, 
he would probably see reason to lay aside so hurtful an opi- 
nion. The opinion is hurtful, because many believe what 
critics say ; and, therefore, many must be thought block- 
heads who are really not so, and surely this is an injury done 
to mankind. 

" The opinion which I have dared to dispute, is, I believe, 
no new one. There is no doubt that it was in daily circula- 
tion among the Greeks and Romans ; and among them it was 
less a lie than it is among us. Some of our addle-headed 
modern critics have certainly dug the sentiment from the 
siccaneous heaps of ancient criticism ; and, after dressing it 
in an English garb, have endeavoured to naturalize it among 
us. But they should have recollected a favourite maxim of 
their own, namely, attention to circumstances. The Hymet- 



78 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

tian thyme would lose its delicate perfume, were it trans- 
planted to the climate of Lapland. The Italian vine would 
yield few grapes on the mountains of Scotland. So an opi- 
nion, which was true and useful at Rome, might be false and 
injurious at Edinburgh. 

" I have said, perhaps, too much on this subject ; but I have 
spoken at large, because the sentiment under consideration 
has been long current and of wide circulation. And there is 
nothing more detrimental to the progress of the student than 
the belief, that if he cannot express every thing clearly and 
elegantly in English, he is a confused and feeble thinker. 
Such an opinion of himself places in his own way a strong 
barrier to improvement. His spirits are damped and his 
exertions unnerved, because he imagines he has much greater 
obstacles to surmount than others, before he can reach a 
respectable mediocrity ; and a much better excuse if he should 
shrink back from the path of improvement and honour, and 
seek shelter in the much-devouring gulf of indolence and 
oblivion. 

" After saying so much in opposition to some great men, I 
shall now say something more in harmony with them. To 
think correctly, clearly, and elegantly, is absolutely necessary 
if we would write with ease, perspicuity, and neatness : 
although the reverse of the proposition will not hold true. 
Before we can wield the English language with grace and 
dignity, we must have learned to think in it — a task in 
which much of the difficulty of composition consists. There 
are two principles in human nature, which always war against 
one another — activity and indolence. Activity sets the mind 
to work, and urges it to continual investigation ; indolence, 
although it is too feeble a principle ever to lay the mind to- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 79 

tally asleep, is yet always endeavouring-, and often too suc- 
cessfully, to diminish the labour of thinking by hurrying the 
mind from one object to another, without permitting it to 
make one thorough investigation. Hence it happens, that 
so many men arrive at old age with so scanty mental acqui- 
sitions. The mind will not be lulled to entire rest, because 
this would be to lull it out of existence. But it is the cus- 
tom of the herd of mankind, and of many of those who are 
the head and shoulders above the rest, to leave the contem- 
plation of an object whenever the contemplation of it has 
become a task. On a beautiful landscape every one reflects 
with ease and delight. Every imagination readily represents 
the mass of objects of which the landscape is composed, and 
many are content with this confused review of it. The ideas 
which the landscape has produced in the mind, are not pro- 
perly formed into words ; at least, the language is of a mixed 
and barbarous kind. Reflection of this sort is easy, and this 
is all that indolence naturally permits. But this is not thinking 
in English. To think in English, the landscape must be 
made to pass before the mind, not only as a whole, but every 
object must be viewed in connexion with surrounding objects. 
We must view the streamlet, leaping down from the rugged 
mountain, here lost under the embracing luxuriance of the 
hawthorn, the hazel, or the broom ; there hurrying down the 
silvery rapid, bursting forth in a beautiful cascade. After 
you have conducted the waters to the adjoining plain, you 
must not leave them to wander alone. Nay, the beauty of 
the fields should be so fascinating as to induce the river to 
make a thousand meanders, as if unwilling to quit the scene. 
You must review its daisied sloping banks, richly clad with 
flocks and herds, grazing in easy joy, or ruminating in safe 



80 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

repose. Look to the peaceful shepherd, spreading his list- 
less length beneath the blooming hawthorn, chanting on his 
artless reed, or, lost in love, gazing on the limpid stream ; 
while his dog slumbers at his feet, or snaps at the encroach- 
ing fly. And a little down the stream, you may venture half 
to reflect on the reclining form of the youthful shepherdess. 
A gentle birch might stretch forth its tremulous hands, turn- 
ing aside the too violent sunbeams from the love-looking face 
of the guileless maid. Her bosom might heave with kind 
desires, and her eye long, with hopeful modesty, for the arri- 
val of her lover. The daisy, the violet, and the cowslip, 
should smile redundant beauty, the kindest zephyrs regale 
her with their most delicate perfumes, the lark warble over 
her head, and the blackbird serenade her from the luxuriant 
elm. Now you must look at the river constrained between 
two rocks, boiling and roaring to get free, and then winding 
peacefully along the level plains and flowery meadows — cul- 
tivated nature waving richly with the hopes of the husband- 
man. 

" Numberless more objects must be thought over, in a 
landscape of any extent, or beauty, or variety. English 
words must be found to represent every object, words to 
bear out the mutual relation and mutual effect, and words to 
generalize the effect of the whole. This mode of thought I 
would call compositional thinking. Whoever has taught his 
mind thus to continue every idea, till its proper representa- 
tive has been ascertained, has acquired what will soon ren- 
der his composition correct and expressive. Compositional 
thinking should not be satisfied with the first word that 
offers itself for the representation of an idea. The word 
should be carefully sought which corresponds exactly to the 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 81 

idea. Nor should a sluggish arrangement of terms content 
us. Different forms of collocation should be tried till the 
sense be not enfeebled or obscured bj the language, nor the 
language crippled or savaged by the sense. The very con- 
trary of this very frequently happens in thinking. The mind 
looks, for a moment, into the object which attracts it, and then 
hurries to another, leaving a course marked only by confu- 
sion, scantiness, or vacuity. To think often on trifles is not 
the duty of a being whose origin is heaven, and whose final 
retreat should be there. But on whatever we do think, the 
mind should be kept upon it till every idea suggested has 
fairly formed itself into English language. To think in this 
manner is not only the best means of acquiring facility in 
composition, but discovers whether the object of contempla- 
tion be despicable or worthy, and informs us what is the 
value of the ideas suggested. We are thus made acquainted 
with the exact degree of our knowledge on every subject — 
an acquaintance which will often mortify pride, but always 
improve the man. 

" To compose often formally is certainly the best method 
of learning to compose well. But to think always composi- 
tionally is the easiest way of gaining expedition, correctness, 
and elegance, in formal writing. 

" Of all kinds of composition, none seems to me more diffi- 
cult than definite and well-marked description of external na- 
ture and human character. These are objects on which we 
have been accustomed to gaze from our earliest years, and we 
can easily represent them in a kind of barbarous colloquial 
jargon. But with the legitimate English words which the 
survey of variegated scenery, or the observation of an inter- 
esting character, should suggest, we are little acquainted. Of 



82 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

philosophical disquisition we have thought sparingly in boy- 
hood. The genuine language of philosophy is, therefore, 
learned with philosophy itself. That proper descriptive 
words may be acquired, it is necessary to see or hear 
them. Of hearing them in common conversation, we have 
small opportunity. In the pulpit, professed description of 
external nature is rare ; and good or bad generally suffices 
for a character. Preachers say little of costumes, attitudes 
of body, or expression of countenances. When a more full 
display of particulars is attempted, the aid of the apostle 
Paul is generally called in ; and, indeed, his descriptions of 
general moral character are extremely full and expressive. 
Still we have almost nothing from the pulpit expressive of 
the endless shadings of character which men display when 
they walk, sit, eat, talk, salute, look, laugh, weep, and so 
forth ; and description of costumes is rarely a necessary 
part of a sermon. To books, therefore, we must turn if we 
would make the language of description our own : and we 
should never read without comparing the copy with the ori- 
ginal — if the original be within our reach. 

" Lest I should turn a critic, or what is nearly the same 
thing, a lecturer on the art of writing, and, like a very bulky 
class of these critics and lecturers, only display my own frigid 
stupidity, « I shall stop here,' or, in my own words, close my 
discussion. 

« R. POLLOK." 

This " Discussion," it may be stated in addition to what 
has been already said of it, is descriptive of his own method 
of acquiring English, and of his practice and habits in com- 
position. From his infancy, he was accustomed to hear and 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 83 

speak Scotch in common conversation. From his boyhood, 
however, he read English ; and, in reading it, always acted 
on an injunction of his father's — never to pass a word 
which he did not understand without looking it up in a dic- 
tionary. About his fifteenth year he began to think in Eng- 
lish ; and at his seventeenth, when he entered on the study of 
literature, he began to speak it in conversation on all subjects 
of importance. In going through the Latin and Greek 
classes at college, he paid particular attention to English in 
reading, speaking, and writing ; and from the time that he 
engaged in the study of logic, he betook himself to books to 
acquire the language fully, in words, pronunciation, and 
idiom ; " composed often formally," and always " thought 
compositionally." 

The following letter, which he wrote to me at the begin- 
ning of June, will show the kind of books which he was then 
reading or wishing to read : — 

" Mr David Pollok, No. 20, Portland Street, 
Glasgow. 

" Moorhouse, June 1, 1821. 
" Dear Brother, — If you would get some books out of the 
Ethic library for me, on Monday first, you would do me a 
very great kindesss. I cannot be there when the library 
opens. Perhaps the librarian wishes the book-getters to at- 
tend in person. But you can tell the librarian that I cannot 
attend, and that it would be unjust not to send me books, if 
my commissioner be trustworthy. Tell him to recollect Mr 
Mylne's lectures on justice and benevolence. The books shall 
be kept and returned according to the rules of the library. 



84 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Your librarian will, perhaps, send me three books. I 
will mention a few : ' Hartley on Man ;' I wish very much 
to see this book ; ' Robertson's History of India ; ' l Formey's 
History of Philosophy ; ' and failing these — ' Goldsmith's 
Animated Nature ;' ' Locke on the Human Understanding ; ' 
e Harrington's Oceana;' * Aristotle's Art of Poetry ;' 'Pope's 
Life of Seriblerius,' &c. ; ' Father Malebranche's Search after 
Truth ; ' < Blackstone's Commentaries ; ' ' Hamilton on Na- 
tional Debt ! ' &c. 

" If the good librarian happen to entrust you with a few 
books to me, I trust you will let me have them by the first 
opportunity. 

" Lest you should not think me serious about ' Hartley on 
Man/ I may mention that a ministerial friend of mine wishes 
to see it. 

" I have finished my ' Discussion on Compositional Think- 
ing.' * You shall have it next week, for aught I know. 

" R. Pollok." 

Of the books mentioned in this letter, it appears that I 
had sent him " Formey's History of Philosophy," and " Gold- 
smith's Animated Nature;" for his note-books, written at 
that time, contain an abridgement of the one, and a selection 
of facts from the other. 

In the month of July, he made a visit among his friends 
in Ayrshire, and kept a journal of it, which was the only one 
that he ever kept. It is written as a letter to his cousin 
Robert Pollok, and \s very much in the style of his common 
conversation ; so that it is presumed the following parts of 
it will not be unacceptable to the reader : — 
* Inserted immediately before. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 85 

" Brief Account of my Peregrinations during the Month of 
July 1821. 

" R. POLLOK. 

"Dear Friend. — On Friday 29th June, I left Moorhouse 
about seven o'clock in the morning. I set my face towards 
Horsehill. My father and mother, and some more of my 
friends, were also going there. They had a horse and cart, 
and had promised to give me a ride ; but, by some neglect 
or other, I missed them at the outset. I was now greatly 
embarrassed. I considered this unlucky beginning as an 
earnest of my future travels. Superstition and philosophy 
held a loud debate within me. The former urged, that mis- 
chances and disappointments in the outset, were nothing but 
prelibations of deeper distresses in the issue ; and numberless 
legends were quoted to confirm the assertion. The latter 
insisted, that the future could be known only by travelling 
into it ; that the beggar had no reason to despair of getting 
his alms in the second house because he had found a shut 
door at the first, as the niggardly and the generous often 
dwell in the same neighbourhood. I waited some time for 
the decision of the two contending powers ; but two enemies 
so potent and inveterate, were not likely to come to a speedy 
termination of hostilities. What must I do ? To remain at 
home was contrary to my promises ; to travel through diffi- 
culties was contrary to my inclination. At this perplexing 
crisis, it occurred to me, in opposition to the arguments of 
superstition, that the key had once fallen from my hand 
into the mire, just when I had locked the door to be 
absent in quest of a partner for the important business of a 
concert. On this former occasion, the event had equalled 



86 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

my highest wishes ; all had been prosperity and happiness. 
Together with this strong proof in favour of philosophy, the 
irresistible light of a Scotch proverb forced itself into my 
mind — ' Hard beginnings make good endings.' Trusting to 
the wisdom of my ancestors, I marched on; and in the course 
of half an hour came up with the cart. I mounted it, and 
rode to Horsehill. In the mean time, I was suitably admo- 
nished by my mother, always to ask what road those meant 
to travel whom I wished to accompany.' 

" I found my friends at Horsehill all well, except my worthy 
uncle David. For some years past his body has resembled 
the vegetable creation : it has decayed in winter, and revived 
in summer. But the present summer seems to have denied 
him its nourishing influences. He is much paler than usual, 
and less of his mortal part remains. He is not melancholy, 
however. Like the leafless oak, he seems to be decaying 
with cheerful dignity. 

" From Horsehill I set out for Greenside.* On my way 
thither I met my brother David, and my very worthy friend 
Mr David Marr, who returned with me to Greenside, where 
I found all my relations in good health : the two elder 
daughters smiling in all the luxuriance of youth and beauty. 
The same evening I returned to Horsehill, in company with 
Margaret Taylor, her sister Marion, and their brothers 
John and David, together with Mr Marr and my brother. 
The evening was extremely fine, and my pleasure was greatly 
heightened by the company in which I was placed. The two 
ladies in company might not be unfitly compared to Minerva 
and Venus. Like these goddesses, their beauty might have 
been a subject of debate. Margaret resembled Minerva, and 
* A farm-house, possessed by his uncle-in-law. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 87 

Marion was a good copy of Venus — only there is nothing of 
that fieriness about her eyes, which was the ancient cause 
of so much mischief. 

" On our way to Horsehill we had occasion to call at a 
small house, inhabited by a widow-mother and an only daugh- 
ter. A kind of pleased surprise looked out of the countenance 
of the good old mother when we entered. There were few 
chairs in the house, but the mistress observed that she had 
' plenty elsewhere.' I was under the agreeable necessity of 
taking my fair companion on my knee. We were sitting in 
this truly friendly manner when the daughter entered ; for 
she had been out tethering a foster-ewe. Her face had the 
undesigning lamb-like appearance of the animal that she had 
just left. After a few questions and answers of common-place 
importance, we left this little habitation of peace. Here I 
had seen no face strongly marked with the lines of thinking ; 
but contentment was there. In going out of the house, this 
passage of King Solomon's forced itself strongly upon my 
mind : ' He that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.' 
* And shall I give up the search after knowledge ? ' said I to 
myself. Something whispered, « No ; for he that increaseth 
knowledge also increaseth pleasure/ 

" Converse, pleasing, if not very profound, occupied our 
time till we arrived at Horsehill. Here we drank tea in 
company with a number more of our friends. Three of us 
were students, reputed to be looking forward to the ministry. 
There were, consequently, a few strokes of wit directed 
against the money-loving spirit of clergymen ; for this is a 
subject which wits have long enjoyed. My worthy uncle 
David was in the company ; and his wonderful stores of know- 
ledge flowed out, at intervals, with overwhelming sweep. I 



88 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

sat and admired, and wished to myself that I could inherit 
his mental acquirements. ' I would rather have them,' said 
I, 'than his farm.' Perhaps I was imposing upon myself; 
but the delusion, if it was one, pleased me. One of my 
uncle's remarks would be extremely useful were it reduced 
to practice : ' It is always dangerous, and very often hurtful, 
to attack personal character.' I returned again to Greenside 
with my former company. Here I slumbered away the night. 
" June 30th. — This morning was very fine, and after 
breakfast, I set out with my friend Mr Marr towards Auch- 
millan, a little hamlet about two miles from Mauchline. 
We reached Auchmillan, the dwelling-place of Mr Marr's 
father, about four o'clock in the afternoon. Here we 
were soon visited by Mr Opaque ; he is designed for the 
ministry, and had a sermon in his pocket of his own manu- 
facturing. After some corporeal refection, I laid myself on 
bed, and Mr Opaque began to read his sermon. It had 
a most somniferous influence on me ; but my friend in- 
sisted that I should prefer a sermon to sleep. The ser- 
mon, I suppose, was meant to prove original sin; but the 
truth was, the sermon was too profound for my capacity. 
The reader seemed very much pleased with what he had 
written. This was no more than natural ; for it is not more 
natural for man to love the offspring of his body than the 
offspring of his mind. But I took the liberty of judging for 
myself; and I think the sermon consisted of an introduction, 
three heads, and an application or conclusion. The intro- 
duction consisted of shadowy irregularity ; the first head was 
darkness illustrated by obscurity ; the second, opacity ex- 
plained by rayless blackness ; the third, perplexity illustrated 
by intricacy ; and the application was ' confusion worse con- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 89 

founded ; ' all of which compelled me to conclude, that the 
author was completely master of that happy knack of writing 
which requires not the drudgery of thinking. 

" After this drowsy sermon was ended, Mr Opaque, my 
friend, and myself, went out to feast for a little on the de- 
scending day. Mr Opaque made the profound observe, that 
* it is very difficult to give a good description of the evening ; 
although there are few that think so.' We entered a belt of 
firs, and it was immediately proposed that we should all three 
carve the initial letters of the names of our dearest beloved 
fair ones on some smooth tree. Mr Opaque objected to this 
exposure. 'But what/ said we, 'can be better done for them, 
since the dear creatures are absent?' Mr Opaque was con- 
vinced, and we began seriously to the work of carving. This 
piece of great affection being finished, I proposed that we 
should next carve our own names, making obeisance to the 
fair ones. This I spoke from the heart, for they were dear 
valuable letters to which I was to bow. No objection was 
made to this proposal ; for what will not a youth in love do ? 

"We now returned to the house, and Mr Opaque departed. 
Mr Marr's father had come home during our absence from 
the house, and he now welcomed me to his dwelling by a 
cordial shake of the hand. This old man is well-informed ; 
but his knowledge has not made him irreligious. By his 
practice he persuades powerfully to the fulfilment of the 
command, * With all thy getting get that wisdom which will 
make thee wise unto salvation.' 

" In this place I find myself very comfortable, and from it 
I am to make my excursions for a few days. 

"Sabbath, July 1 This day I went with my friend to 

Mauchline, and heard sermon. The preacher was not very 



90 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

profound ; but, in all respects, acquitted himself very much 
as becomes ' the messenger of peace to guilty men/ 

" Mr Marr was requested to stay after sermon and super- 
intend a Sabbath-evening school. This gave me an oppor- 
tunity of drinking tea with the preacher who had addressed 
us from the pulpit. He was modest in conversation, and was 
willing to be instructed as well as to instruct, a disposition 
not very frequent in clergymen. I heard the scholars of the 
Sabbath-school examined ; they acquitted themselves toler- 
ably. The mode of teaching was very good, but too laxly 
enforced. 

" Monday, Auchmillan, July 2. — The forenoon of this day 
I spent in reading and writing. After dinner, I went out 
with my friend to enjoy the fine day, and to visit some of 
our neighbours. 

" Auchmillan, July 3. — This day I spent mostly within 
doors, in reading, writing, and so on. Nothing remarkable 
occurred, save that, on the afternoon of this day, I publicly 
declared to the family here my hatred to all whey. This 
declaration, although to make it was considerably unplea- 
sant, has had the desired effect. 

" Wednesday, July 4 — In company with my friend I left 
Auchmillan, this morning, for Catrine. We took dinner 
with Mr Pollok's father and mother; and then proceeded 
down the Ayr towards Haughholm.* The scenery between 
Catrine and Haughholm is the most noble which the Water 
of Ayr exhibits. You have seen this place. I shall not, 
therefore, attempt to give you any description. The impres- 
sions which the beauties of Haughholm made on my mind, 
prevented me from taking almost any rest till they had com- 
* The house of Mr Ingram, forester to Lord Glenlee. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 91 

pelled me to compose a little piece, entitled an * Interview 
with Ayr Water.' At Haughholm we spent the evening. 
Nothing can be more pleasant than the polite hospitality of 
this place. Here we enjoyed the night. 

" Thursday, July 5. — This morning I opened my eyes 
again on all the beauties of the banks of Ayr. After break- 
fast I set out with my friend towards a farm-house about 
two miles from the Ayr. In the mean time we walked 
over-arched with oak, and birch, and plane ; and serenaded 
by all the music of the banks of the Ayr, till we arrived at 
Barskimming, the seat of Lord Glenlee. All the property 
of this gentleman bears strong marks of taste ; and the nearer 
you approach his mansion, the more conspicuous are these 
marks. Nature has provided him with a situation for a 
house of the most noble kind ; and the grandeur and taste of 
the house add dignity to the place. I think Lord Glenlee's 
library the most beautiful place that I have seen, if we take 
into consideration the combination of nature and art. The 
library contains about twelve thousand volumes. The carpet 
cost a hundred guineas. Every part of the interior is finished 
in the most elegant manner imaginable ; and three of the 
windows appear to overhang the Water of Ayr, which is 
here ornamented as much as large trees, lofty banks, and 
singing birds can do. 

" From Barskimming we went to the farm just referred 
to. This farm, the property of Lord Glenlee, consists of 
about two hundred acres of excellent land. The dwelling- 
house is finished out in a style that does honour both to land- 
lord and tenant. Every person about this house has the look of 
perseverance. The great wheel , the tenant, is a com- 
plete farmer. You may have noticed the like in your time. 



92 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

He looks always like a man who has a great deal to think 
about, speaks very seldom, an dscarcely ever smiles. So great 
is the dignified distance which he maintains towards all the 
members of his household, that even his own sons, who have 
arrived at maturity, dare hardly ask him the smallest favour. 
No authoritative tone accompanies his orders ; for he knows 
that his slightest command will be punctually obeyed. He 
is quite civil to strangers ; but to them, as to all others, he 
has little to say. About the house, he often leans himself to 
a table, a chest of drawers, or a desk, and picks his teeth. 

" I have often wondered whether this still, important, and 
thoughtful behaviour of the big farmer, be natural or studied ; 
and I have, at last, drawn the conclusion, that it is the natu- 
ral result of his situation. The man who pays the rent of 
two or three hundred acres of good ground, must necessarily 
think some ; therefore he must not always speak. If a man 
preserve not some distance and dignity, servants will neither 
respect nor obey ; and when a man has long been accustomed 
to do so towards servants, it is but natural that he should act 
in the same manner towards his own sons, when these sons 
occupy the working situation of farm-servants. Add to all 
this the natural importance of human nature, the desire which 
one part of it has to govern another, and you will not be sur- 
prised at the character of a big farmer. 

" After this time, Sir, my peregrinations have been either 
so barren of recordable facts, or I have been so lazy, or so 
much employed in writing on other subjects, that I shall be 
compelled to conclude my account of them. I cannot do this, 
however, without certifying you, that I have submitted, once 
voluntarily, to a severe infliction from a story of a famous 
story-teller of the west. From these story-tellers I have 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 93 

been long accustomed to fly with great trepidation. But 
as the relater of this story was one of the most celebrated in 
all the self-complacent Ayrshire, I ventured to sacrifice my 
patience in favour of my curiosity. 

" My dear friend, if ever you should fall in with a story- 
teller of the kind, which I pray may never be your lot, I 
beseech you fly from him as you would do from the plague. 
Let no curiosity prompt you to risk your patience. Let what 
I have suffered be a warning to you ; and let neither a mile 
of burning whins nor a boisterous river prevent your escape. 

" R. Poulok." 

After concluding this account of his " peregrinations," he 
had prolonged his stay in Ayrshire till near the end of July ; 
as appears from the following letter of his to me, respecting 
the approaching death of his uncle David Dickie of Horse- 
hill:— 

" Moor-house, Last Saturday of July 1821. 
" Dear Brother, — I am just arrived at Moorhouse. I left 
our uncle David about three hours ago ; and received what I 
fear shall be the last injunction which 1 shall ever receive 
from him. Yesterday, he was unable to sit out of bed ; and 
this day he is still weaker. He is wearing away with re- 
signed dignity. Although his faith, as I heard him say, is, 
perhaps, not that of ' full assurance/ yet with humble resig- 
nation and hopeful confidence he can say, that though his 
God * slay' him he * will trust in him' — that he shall be 'more 
than a conqueror through him that loved him.' How solemn, 
how affectionate, were his admonitions to me ! and you know 
with what feelings I left him. Never did Young's inter- 
rogative assertion strike so deeply into my mind — 



94 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

1 What is time worth ? Ask death-beds — they can tell.' 
" I cannot detail, for I am wearied to-night. I have writ- 
ten a few things, which you will see when you come to Moor- 
house. Good-night. 

" R. POLLOK." 

As his uncle, though his days were yet a little prolonged, 
still grew weaker and weaker, he soon returned to Horsehill, 
to see him once more on his death-bed, and ask, " What is 
time worth ?" While he was there, he wrote me the following 
short letter, giving me some further account of the state of 
his dying uncle, and saying a few words respecting himself: — 

" Horsehill, Aug. 14, 1821. 
" Dear Brother, — At this moment my uncle is nearly in the 
same state as when you saw him, only his strength has de- 
cayed a little. He still enjoys the same noble tranquillity 
of mind, and the same resignation to the will of his Creator. 
His mind seems to be more spiritually enlightened than when 
I formerly saw him. As he advances nearer the promised 
land, his soul glows with brighter prospects of it. That 
eternal * rest ' which awaits the righteous, seems already to 
have embraced his soul ; and, bidding adieu to the mazes of 
doubt and the damps of unbelief, his countenance is already 
brightening to the glorious welcome of his Father, * Well 
done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy 
of thy Lord.' Truly 'the end' of the righteons man 'is 
peace.' 

" This afternoon I am going to Greenside, where I expect 

to meet Miss , together with my cousin R. Pollok, 

who is at present in Ayrshire. It is probable that I may 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 95 

gather something of importance from a meeting of such illus- 
trious personages. Let the king, poor man, enjoy his courts 
and levees about Dublin.* 

" I have not yet spoken to my uncle about leaving Horse- 
hill ; but it is likely, if he oppose it not considerably, that I 
shall return to Moorhouse on or before Saturday first. 

« R. PoLLOK." 

After the date of this letter, he was not long away at any 
time from Horsehill, till the death of his uncle David Dickie, 
which took place on the 11th of the next month. From 
that, till the end of the vacation, he prosecuted, sometimes at 
home and sometimes in Glasgow, a desultory kind of study 
in the miscellaneous reading of Latin, Greek, or English. 
The only letter, within my knowledge, that he wrote 
at this period, serving to throw any light on his history 
and character, was the following one to his cousin Robert 
Pollok:— 

" Glasgow, October 19, 1821. 
" My dear Friend, — I am sitting this moment in my room, 
No. 20, Portland Street. I arrived just a few minutes ago. 
You see I have got the lamp lighted, for David is not in. 
I see some letters lying on the table, addressed to thee. 
1 Well,' said I to myself, i thou shalt soon receive them/ 

" Fortune has not trampled me so much to-day as her cus- 
tom is ; although I fear she has indulged me with prosperous 
gales, that she may afterwards the more effectually dash me on 
her horrid shelves and quicksands. But why should I fear her ? 
She cannot take back what she has given, for I have enjoyed it 
* George the Fourth was then on his visit to that city. 



\)b THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

already ;* and though she should pursue me with all her storms 
behind, and meet me with all her breakers before, she can only 
empty my pocket ; but what of that ? While I have a friend, 
and a heart to love a friend — while the ' Twa Rabs ' can meet, 
and their souls mingle, and laugh, and triumph together, they 
will have a shilling to brighten the feast of souls, in spite of 
her ; a feast of which her niggard favourites never tasted. 
Let virtue be our guide — let unbending rectitude characterize 
all our actions ; and if we have moments of sorrow, we shall 
also have moments of joy. Let the stinted souls, if souls they 
can be called, that never felt the weight of an empty pocket, 
linger out their insipid lives. A wave never embroiled the 
smooth surface of their fate ; and envy them not. 

' No, the wild bliss of nature needs alloy ; 
And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy.' 

« Thine, 

" R. PoLLOK." 

* He here seems to have had in his mind the inimitahle passage in 
Dryden's Translation of Horace's Ode 29, Book 3 : — 

" To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. 
Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, 
The joys I have possest, in spite of fate, are mine. 
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power ; 
But what has heen has been, and I have had my hour." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 97 



CHAPTER V. 

In the beginning of November Robert returned to col- 
lege for the session of 1821-22, his fifth and last one; and 
during it he attended the Natural Philosophy class under 
Professor Meikleham, and the Mathematical one under Pro- 
fessor Millar. 

This was, throughout, a session of comprehensive and 
laborious study. His preparations for the two classes, in 
which he was regular and diligent, so as to acquit himself 
to the satisfaction of both Professors, were only a part of his 
numerous and arduous labours. At the commencement of 
the session, it was agreed between him and me, that we 
should take, at the close of it, the degree of Master of Arts ; 
it being best, he said, to take all that the college could 
give. Accordingly, while we carried on the study of natural 
philosophy and mathematics, we made preparations for tak- 
ing that degree, by returning back to the wide field of lite- 
rature over which we had already passed at college, and 
reviewing it in all its extent and bearings. During holidays, 
eight or ten of which occurred in the course of the session, 
we read Latin or Greek, almost without intermission, from 
morning to night ; and in these readings, in which we were 
joined by our friend Mr David Marr, who lodged in the same 
house with us, Robert evinced uncommon perseverance, 

I 



98 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

intentness, and endurance — often urging Mr Marr and me 
to proceed with him, when we were like to fall off our seats 
from exhaustion. 

At ten o'clock every night, all the inmates of the house 
in which we lodged assembled in our room for family wor- 
ship ; and each student conducted it in turn. When it was 
over, Mr Marr usually remained with us for an hour or 
two ; and in our conversation on these occasions, Robert, 
familiar as we were with his powers, often excited our asto- 
nishment with what appeared to us the originality of his 
ideas, the extent of his knowledge, and the enlargement of 
his views. We knew more difference in him, and saw and 
felt more of his superiority — more of his comprehension of 
mind — than we had ever done before ; and our expectations of 
him were proportionally raised. The subject on which he 
seemed to like best to talk was the union of philosophy with 
Christianity. " Why," he asked, " have we not Christian 
Philosophy — the Philosophy of the Bible — the Philosophy 
of Christianity?" " Every system of Ethics," he affirmed, 
" that does not embrace the Christian religion — that is not 
built on Divine Revelation — must be greatly defective and 
erroneous." " If a man shall arise," he would exclaim with 
emphasis, " who shall unite Philosophy and Christianity, and 
set them forth together in an elegant dress, he will do the 
world a most excellent service." 

It was early this session that he came to prefer blank 
verse to rhyme for a poetical work. Hitherto, it was his 
intention, if ever he should attempt any thing of the kind, 
to write in rhyme. To this intention, which he had been led 
to form partly from early first-love impressions from reading 
Pope's " Essay on Man," but chiefly from Dr Johnson's 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 99 

animadversions on blank verse in his " Life of Milton," Mr 
Marr and I were strongly opposed ; as we thought blank 
verse more congenial to his mind, and better suited both to 
his ideas and modes of expression. At first he put us off 
with a good-natured smile, or put us down with a stroke of 
good-humoured satire. But we rallied and persisted. While 
his attention was turned to the subject, a circumstance 
occurred which constrained him to try blank verse again ; 
and he was induced thenceforward to give it the preference. 

About the New- Year, one of his class-fellows, Mr William 
Friend Durant, son of an English congregational minister, 
and a young gentleman of great talents, took suddenly ill, 
and died. Robert composed a " Monody" on his death, and 
published it anonymously. Soon after its publication, he 
happened, one evening when he was in the publisher's shop, 
to hear a student making some illiberal and envious remarks 
respecting it. On this, he came straight to his lodgings ; 
and, after telling me with some warmth what he had heard, 
sat down to table, and gave vent to his feelings in writing a 
piece in blank verse " To Envy," extending to fifty lines. 
From the time that he wrote these, which he did without 
ever stopping the pen, he thought " blank verse," as he 
expressed it, " the language of his soul." 

Early in the session, he set on foot a small Literary 
Society of students in Philosophy for mutual improvement. 
It met once a-week, in a school-room in Candlerigg Street ; 
and at the opening of each meeting, one of the members 
read or delivered an address as the subject of discussion. 
To this society, at the opening of one of its meetings in the 
month of December, Robert read the following essay, which 
embodies many of his thoughts and opinions — comprises the 



100 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

substance of several of his conversations — and gives some 
idea of the extent of his reading, as well as of his acquaint- 
ance with classical and scientific literature at the time men- 
tioned : — 

"Dec. 14, 1821. 

" Nor hoarse nor mute, though fallen on evil days, 
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues." 

" It has been long the murmur of those who are too indo- 
lent for exertion, and of those who have exerted themselves 
without success, that all has been already acted on the 
theatre of literature which can inform the understanding, 
warm the heart, or amuse the imagination. Our early fore- 
fathers stood on the earth, looked round them, and beheld 
every thing new and attractive. The wide harvest of mate- 
rial and spiritual nature waved ten thousand beauties to 
every eye, and offered as many lessons to every understand- 
ing. No sickle had been thrust into it. The temptation 
was irresistible. To reap it down became the luxurious 
employment of every man of talent ; and, indeed, to every 
one there was enough, and to spare. Homer cast his com- 
prehensive and sublimating eye over the rich fields, and 
appropriated to his own use many a noble shock. The 
author of the Book of Job, King David, Isaiah, and the other 
Jewish poets, had their abundant share. The three great 
tragic poets of the Greeks found sufficient left to them in 
their days ; and Pindar, Herodotus, Plato, and Xenophon, 
had no reason to complain. Even behind the Jews and 
Grecians many handfuls lay scattered for succeeding gene- 
rations. At this period Roman genius appeared, gathered 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 101 

in the unclaimed residue, and, far from being satisfied, spent 
many of its later years in ransacking and rifling the copious 
stores of former ages. After the declension of the Roman 
empire, the labourers in the fields of literature were the 
Italians, the French, and the English ; and they, like Mephi- 
bosheth with King David, ate and drank wholly at the table 
of the ancients : and for a century or two every one seemed 
to rise satisfied from the repast. By simplifying or com- 
pounding what was before them, the dexterous had some- 
times the address to give to the old the relish of novelty. 
Tasso, Corneille, Spenser, Milton, and Shakspeare, with all 
the men of genius who lived during the two centuries last 
past, were among the number who possessed the happy art 
of sprinkling the old with the relish of the new. They 
neither starved themselves, therefore, nor suffered their 
households to perish. But, alas, in what evil days and 
barren seasons have we been ushered into life ! Not a soli- 
tary spike rewards the toils of the hungry gleaner. No new 
assortment or combination can be made to satisfy the mental 
appetite. The world is left to us desolate. We must either 
humbly live on the bounties of our ancestors, or hunger 
away our feeble days in drowsy indolence. Such is the 
sleepy moan of the sons of sloth, and the bitter cry of little 
critics. 

" With whatever neglect or contempt the man who has 
long exercised his talents for his own good and the pleasure 
of his fellow creatures, may hear these sluggish murmurs, 
yet it must be acknowledged that they have sometimes 
quenched the fire of youthful genius, or, at least, shrouded it 
for a while from the eyes of mankind. When the youth, 
whose strong intellectual capacity fits him for contributing 



102 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

to the stores of mental provision, hears repeatedly told what 
mighty men lived in former ages — that this and that man of 
overwhelming name has been before him, and written of 
every thing — that the single Stagyrite, of matchless mind, 
wrote on almost every subject with which men are conver- 
sant — is not the youth likely to start back from the hallowed 
ground, and curse the very thought which had almost brought 
him into comparison where he would have lost so much ? I 
do not suppose that this magnifying of antiquity will awe 
into silence the itching scribbler, or finally check the pro- 
gress of that spirit which has been taught by its Maker to 
trust more its own observations on the past and present, than 
the report of all the living ; yet fear may, for a season, 
enfeeble its energy, or diminish its lustre. 

" The best way of banishing fear is to remove the object 
of terror. In regard to the philosopher, the historian, and 
the moralist, the removing of this object of dread will be no 
difficult task ; nor will many of its terrors remain when the 
poet approaches it. 

" The youth, who finds his lot has destined his temporal 
existence to the nineteenth century, and granted him, at the 
same time, a patient and vigorous philosophical spirit, will 
soon discover that he has nothing to fear from the lateness 
of his arrival, or the labours and renown of his ancestors. 
He may yet benefit society, and encircle his temples with 
unfading laurels. If he is captivated with the philosophy of 
mind, the object of his desire remains still in comparative 
darkness. Aristotle said much about the soul, but he said 
little that was intelligible. Many centuries after him were 
quibbled away in endeavouring to explain what had, per- 
haps, never any meaning. Heaven, in mercy to mankind, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 103 

sent Bacon ; and, since his time, the powers and operations 
of the human mind have been considerably unveiled. But 
the mind is even to-day seen with the shadowy uncertainty 
of a distant object in the twilight. One philosopher distin- 
guishes the mind into a great many independent original 
powers. Another, more sparing of his divisions, contents 
himself with three or four. One draws a laborious line of 
demarcation between the dominions of reason and passion, 
housing the first in the head and the second in the breast. 
To the former, he ascribes all the more cool, hesitating, and 
noble actions of man ; to the latter, together with a host of 
animal and mechanical principles, he assigns all more pre- 
cipitate, stupid, and foolish actions. Another philosopher 
gives reason the credit of all human exertion, and informs 
his readers, that were reason never seduced by circumstances, 
all the vehemence and rage of what is generally termed pas- 
sion, would never be able to urge a human being into a single 
foolish deed. Mental philosophers are at no less variance 
about liberty and necessity, as well as the standard of moral 
rectitude ; and even the limits of virtue and vice are but 
ill defined. When opinions are so various, and judgments 
so contradictory, there is room to doubt that the truth has 
not yet been unveiled. Here, then, is a field where the 
philosophic mind may exert all its energies ; and, if it is 
successful, the importance of the truths discovered will 
secure an abundant and lasting reward. Who would not 
cherish the memory of that man as a benefactor to his race, 
that had so satisfactorily ascertained the powers and opera- 
tions of the mind ; the distinction or identity of reason and 
passion ; the springs of action ; the standard of virtue, and 
the limit, in all cases, between virtue and vice ; — that on all 



104 THE LIFE OF EOBERT POLLOK. 

these interesting subjects no diversity of opinion existed ; 
and that, as soon as the youth began to enquire into mind, 
his instructor might be able to prove to him the truth on 
all these topics as clearly and irrefragably as the natural 
philosopher can demonstrate that all the interior angles of 
any triangle are equal to two right angles ? Every one, I 
say, who brings man a step, or prepares him for taking a 
step, nearer this noble purpose, sheds another beam of light 
on the human race, and deserves their lasting gratitude. 
Nor is it to be supposed, after all present difficulties in regard 
to mind are cleared away, that the mental philosopher will 
be born in vain* New light will discover new fields and 
new imperfections. These will demand the energies of 
genius to explore, clear, and cultivate. Perfection seems 
not to be designed for earthly man. Although the present 
generation should display all that seems, at this moment, 
dark in mind, the next would have as much to explain, and 
the explanation of it would, perhaps, be as desirable and 
useful. 

" If the youth of genius is fascinated with the majestic 
charms of natural philosophy, the fields which have been but 
partially visited, and the wilds where never trode the foot of 
man, are numerous and widely extended. Within the last 
century the steady progress of natural science encourages 
greatly the efforts of investigation. Pythagoras first gave 
the hint that the sun is the centre of the solar system ; 
Copernicus renewed and published the opinion ; and Galileo 
enlarged the means of proof. But it was not till the great 
Sir Isaac Newton shone on earth that the properties of the 
rays of light, and the all-commanding influences of gravita- 
tion, were disclosed to the minds of mortals. At that illus- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 105 

trious era, the veil was removed from the face of the heavens, 
and the arm of the Almighty was seen actuating, sustaining, 
and regulating the harmonious revolutions of countless worlds. 
Earth was no longer conceived to be a sedentary prisoner, 
fettered to some point of space, but contemplated with all her 
mountains, seas, and shaggy forests, wheeling round the 
central fire — accomplishing, by her own motion, the succession 
of day and night, and the vicissitude of seasons ; and joining 
the planetary symphonies in praise to Him who made and 
who guides the whole. After all, how little is known of 
material creation ! The further we advance the wider the 
prospects, and the more numerous the objects to attract 
attention and exercise ingenuity. The invention of the tele- 
scope has shown us enough of other worlds to excite a desire 
of better acquaintance. And may not the perspicacity and 
exertion of genius, by modifying and combining matter, so 
invigorate the telescopic eye, that not only the bodies which 
compose our system shall be made fully to disclose their 
properties, uses, and inhabitants, but even the fixed stars 
shall in vain seek the far back recesses of space to elude 
human investigation ? The invention of the telescope at all, 
was little expected a thousand years ago. In like manner, 
the improvement of the microscope may yet disclose pro- 
perties of matter which we are, at present, unable to conceive. 
The chemist, botanist, mineralogist, and anatomist, have 
done much to increase the enjoyments of mankind. But in 
their dominions there is yet much doubtful, much wanting, 
and much to be removed. The external conveniences of life 
may be increased ; and the causes and seats of diseases, 
which have hitherto baffled the sagacity of physicians, and 
given over their victims untimely sacrifices to the unrecom- 



106 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

pensing grave, may be discovered ; from the hidden stores of 
nature, the victorious medicine may be extracted, and the 
goodly human frame may yet smile at the menaces of a dis- 
ease which, at present, inevitably crushes it to dust. In 
every part of nature the harvest is plenteous, but the labourers 
have been few. Whoever, therefore, feels the spirit of inves- 
tigation vigorous within him, has sufficient on which to expend 
all its energies, and that without loading the lower biblio- 
thecal shelves with prodigious but undisturbed folios, on 
the essence of the human mind, animal spirits, vibratory 
nerves, elastic ether, the infinite divisibility of matter, or its 
ultimate particles. 

" Room for the talents of the historian was never more un- 
confined. It is the province of the historian to record the trans- 
actions of mankind — to display the dark places of politics — 
describe the characters of eminent individuals, and the strong 
biases and general dispositions of nations ; to delineate the 
various appearances of the globe — its inhabitants, rational 
and irrational — its climates and productions ; and to do all this 
so as to please and instruct his own and future generations. 
And at what period of past ages was the demand for facul- 
ties to accomplish this purpose more urgent than it is at this 
moment ? Has not the face of Europe, during these twenty 
years last past, been every day agitated with transactions 
peculiarly fitted to blazon the page of history, and instruct 
posterity ? If a mortal should happen to make his appear- 
ance in this age, with the profound penetration of Tacitus or 
Hume, the narrative powers of Livy, and the character- 
drawing talents of Sallust, he may congratulate himself 
on having arrived at a period when all his abilities may 
be largely exerted in benefiting his fellow-creatures, and 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 107 

gathering honour to himself. It will require all his pene- 
tration to unravel the complicated and heavy policy of 
Europe, weary all his rapidity and skill of narration to 
record the number and magnitude of events, and exhaust all 
his vigour and versatility of description to display the great- 
ness and variety of character. All the past is, in some 
degree, the property of the historian. If his ancestors have 
missed any thing worthy of remembrance, or left any thing 
in dubious circumstances, by recording the first and certify- 
ing the latter, he confers a'benefit on the world. The want 
of a complete history of Scotland testifies that the historian 
has no reason to deplore want of employment, but that 
Scotland has cause to lament she has produced so few his- 
torians. In short, at whatever watch the man possessed of 
historical talents ushers into life, he can never want room 
for their exertion. The mazy wheels of empire never cease 
their rapid revolution. Fortune casts the joyous beams of 
liberty on one nation, and obscures another with the heavy 
and melancholy clouds of oppression. The lowly ambitious 
are ever racking their murderous jaws to devour their 
brethren ; and the patriotic soul will still nobly labour to 
snatch the unlawful prey from the Polyphemian mouth, and 
starve the monster to death. Every sun that rises reveals to 
men something formerly unnoticed among the multitude of 
things ; some portion of the globe previously unexplored ; 
some mineral which, till then, was never dragged from its 
dark recess ; or some herb which had hitherto looked up in 
vain to attract the eye of man : and all these discoveries call 
for the powers of the historian to marshal and array them 
for the review of every succeeding generation. 

" The moralist, or the philosopher of morals, can never 



108 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

appear on the coast of life unseasonably. True, man has 
been often told, that obedience and love to his Maker, jus- 
tice, and benevolence, and gentleness to his fellow-creatures, 
and temperance, prudence, and fortitude, exercised in regard 
to himself, secure his honour and happiness in every stage 
of existence ; and that a conduct the reverse ultimately 
covers him with shame, and casts his naked soul into the 
weltering lake of fire, where Remorse for ever hisses, and 
Despair for ever howls. Noah, Job, and Solomon, Seneca, 
Hall, Young, Addison, and Johnson, have all taught that 
wisdom excelleth folly as far as light excelleth darkness ; 
that he who does most good is the happiest ; and that he 
who perpetrates the most evil is the most miserable. These 
great men, and others of kindred genius, had their effect, in 
their own times, in sobering the folly and humanizing the 
barbarism of the stout-hearted sons of Adam. And, in our 
day, the influences of their preaching continues to persuade 
the simple from the inheritance of folly. But every age has 
its peculiar eccentricities in vice, its ill-will at some par- 
ticular virtue. In one age, folly puts forth his uncouth 
branches, where, at another period, not a sprout was seen. 
Our eyes are not now feasted, as the Romans on the arena, 
with the potent struggle of the two lords of the creation — the 
man and the lion. But, then, we more unnaturally banquet 
on the gashed features and bloody breast of the pugilist ; 
and our ears are still soothed with the dying groan of the 
mortal dueller. We have now no Puttenham, that I know 
of, giving rules to poets how to hammer their poetical brains 
into the shape of eggs, turbots, fusees, and lozenges. The 
alliteration of the sixteenth century, and the euphuism of 
Lilly, have brawled and mewled themselves into long, last- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 109 

ing, Lethean repose. But, then, we have still critics, whose 
addle brains and stony hearts would quench the unquench- 
able fire of a Kirke White : we have still poets more dear 
to sound than sense ; and rhymers who make the woods of 
Madeira tremble and shudder more at the kiss of two lovers, 
than at the full discharge of the thunder of Omnipotence. 

" Wisdom, like the natural food of man, calls for a long 
and assiduous culture ; but folly, like the mushroom, springs 
up in a night, and spontaneously luxuriates to its motley 
perfection. Although every germ of folly, which lifts its 
head above the surface to-day, were cut down, a new harvest 
of tares would cover the fields to-morrow. Every moment, 
therefore, calls for the moralist, with his sickle in his hand, 
to cut down these cumberers of the ground. Satire has been 
always in use among moralists ; and, perhaps, no weapon 
is fitter for lopping off the little oddities of men. But every 
age has need of its satirists. The fools of this age turn 
themselves away from the whetted edge on which their 
brethren of the last generation fell. It requires a skilful 
moral warrior ever at hand, therefore, to draw folly from all 
its lurking-places, meet it in all its rambling and blustering 
manoeuvres, surprise it in all its strong fortresses, and direct 
the sword of truth home to its breast. 

" Let the philosopher of morals arrive when he may, only 
let him take his seat high on the imperishable battlements of 
virtue, and cast his comprehensive eye down on the vast 
changing world below — let him observe its windings and 
shadings, the noise, the hurry, and the jostling — let him 
glance deep into the workings of the human heart, and 
examine the state of pride and envy, hatred and fear, of love, 
joy, compassion, and hope, which inhabit there — and he will 



110 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

hear duty calling him to lift up his voice, and teach the 
people knowledge. He will see a thousand festering vices 
to eradicate, and a thousand languishing virtues to cherish 
and invigorate. Nor shall understanding put forth her 
voice in vain, ' The words of the wise are as goads, and as 
nails fastened by the masters of assemblies.' Where, then, 
is the moralist of the nineteenth century ? Let him not 
think he is cast on a desert, or gifted with powers only to 
inform him that he has nothing to employ them with. At 
whatever time the gardener enters his garden, he sees some 
presumptuous branch to be lopped off, some feeble plant to 
be supported, some sickly flower to be watered, or some 
insolent weed to be eradicated. So, at whatever hour the 
moralist looks abroad on the human family, he sees some 
strong vice to be torn up ; some oddity in dress, in speech, 
in food, or in amusement, to be reprimanded or ridiculed out 
of countenance ; some latent virtue to cherish and com- 
mend ; some truth to display and enforce. The wiser and 
more numerous the writers on morality and decorum are, 
the more vigorous and extensive will be the spread of huma- 
nity and goodness. And happiness is the fruit of goodness, 
and always in proportion to it. To the man of talent innu- 
merable modes of rendering virtue attractive, and powerful 
to convince, will occur. She may hover on the wings of 
fancy, and suddenly alight on the wandering mind. She may 
borrow the garb of fable, or steal into the heart through a 
vision of the night. She may look with a countenance all 
mercy and beauty, and allure us by the purity and harmony 
of her charms ; or she may gather her face into a frown, 
brandish the sword of justice in her hand, and prostrate the 
proud heart by the terrors of her wrath. The following 



THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. Ill 

from Solomon may be considered a beautiful allusion to the 
various ways in which virtue may be enforced : — ' Doth not 
wisdom cry, and understanding put forth her voice ? She 
standeth in the top of the high places, by the way in the 
places of the paths. She crieth at the gates, at the entry of 
the city, at the coming in at the doors/ 

" If there be yet a plentiful harvest inviting the philosopher, 
the historian, and the moralist, and promising them a rich 
reward, are there not also subjects of song and immortal 
wreaths, tempting the poet to take hold of the harp, and 
fling his tender hand across the strings of harmony ? The 
early poets, it is said, have taken possession of the most 
striking objects of nature, and their works are, therefore, 
more vigorous and sublime than those of later bards. 
Whether this long-received opinion may not be rather 
imaginary than real, there is room for doubt. Poets were 
posting themselves in the strong places of nature during 
thousands of years anterior to Milton ; and yet, without 
copying the images or thoughts of his predecessors, he con- 
founds us with a vastness and sublimity of idea and compari- 
son, before which almost every former poet must veil his 
head as the stars at the approach of the sun. Homer's 
heroes fling from their hands stones which two men, in the 
late ages of degeneracy, could not lift. Milton's heroes take 
the mountain by its piny tops, and toss it against the enemy. 
At the name of Shakspeare, the bards of other years fall 
down in deep prostration, and abjure the name of poet. In 
strength of expression, these two archangels in poetry stand 
aloft, like the star-neighbouring Teneriffe among the little 
islands that float on the Atlantic surge. If the verse of 
Milton be less melodious than that of Homer and Virgil, 



112 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

it is because the language in which he wrote was unsuscep- 
tible of equal harmony. In like manner, were we to compare 
the lyric poets of modern Europe with those she produced in 
ancient days, the comparison would not be so unfavourable to 
our own times as has been often imagined. 

" But were we to confine the comparison to the poets of 
one nation — were we to compare the early English poets with 
those of our own time, it has been often said we would lose by 
the comparison. ' The early poet lays hold of the most mag- 
nificent objects of his own country, and leaves to those who 
come after him in the same nation the more feeble images of 
beauty and elegance.' Excepting a very few of the early 
English poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, and 
Milton — which two last, by the bye, can scarcely be called 
early poets — generally speaking, it must be admitted that our 
primitive bards have irregularity, wildness, and extravagance 
on their side ; and, with these accomplishments, they fail not 
to° attract numerous admirers. But is it not probable that 
many admire these qualities because they come down to 
them with a thousand mighty names vouching their excel- 
lence ? But why did these men of intellectual might praise 
what is not now deserving praise ? It may be easily 
answered, that the wise men in the ages when the early 
poets wrote, were pleased almost necessarily with what 
pleased the poets themselves. They had seen nothing better 
of the kind : no unfavourable comparison could, therefore, 
be made. In the following age, there would be some who 
would think that wisdom perished with their fathers. These, 
seeing nothing worth commendation in their own time, would 
applaud what had been praised in the preceding age. And 
these discontents might even have a name to live among the 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 113 

men of their day. They would, therefore, have followers 
in every succeeding age, till the list would become so nume- 
rously respectable, that for one to refuse to add his name to 
it would be taken as a proof of his want of taste, or, perhaps, 
of his total destitution of common sense. Thus every one, who 
believes in the report of those who have gone before him, and 
who dislikes the name of fool, opens the work of an early 
poet with the determination not to close it, till, in spite of 
his own judgment, he has seen perspicuity in darkness, grace- 
ful negligence in stiff debility, harmony in discord, and con- 
sistency in confusion. Nor must he quit the page till he has 
learned to keep his countenance at the lowest vulgarity, and 
most shameless obscenity, which he must persuade himself is 
no more than honest frankness. It is necessary, also, that he 
discover the smoothness, beauty, elegance, and consistency of 
the modern bard to be as unfit to unite with them gran- 
deur and vigour, as the green withes of Gaza were unfit to 
bind the unshaven son of Manoah. What we determine to 
believe is believed on little evidence ; and the respective 
merits of the early and later poets of a nation are thus 
settled. 

" In extravagance, and boldness of metaphor and allegory, 
there is often, no doubt, much to be admired. And in our 
early poets these attractions are eminently conspicuous. 
Take an example from Langlande, a celebrated poet, and a 
contemporary of Chaucer. Langlande, in his ' Visions of 
Pierce Plowman, or Christian Life/ makes the power of 
grace confer upon Pierce Plowman four stout oxen to culti- 
vate the field of truth : these are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and 
John; the last of whom is described as the gentlest of the 
team. She afterwards assigns him the like number of stots or 

K 



114 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

bullocks to harrow what the Evangelists had ploughed ; and 
this new-horned team consists of Saint or Stot Ambrose, Stot 
Austin, Stot Gregory, and Stot Jerome. In another early 
English poet we find all the human intestines personified. 
With these, and similar efforts of strength, the lovers of the 
bold are wonderfully regaled. 

" By these remarks I mean not to ridicule all or any one 
of the early British bards : they wrote with the skill and taste 
of their times. Chaucer and Spenser wrote above their age ; 
and they will ever be dear to him who reads them with the 
feeling of a poet. Even in the works of the most perverse 
and absurd bards of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth 
centuries, many flowers lift their fair forms on the wide 
wastes of nonsensical extravagance. And I would reverence 
a spark of poetic fire should it glimmer through the crevices 
of the rubbish of a world. But, after all, I may be pardoned 
for indulging a smile at him, who, in the nineteenth cen- 
tury, with more knowledge, and better means for improving 
his taste, pretends to discover beauty in deformity, and easy 
connexion of parts in chaotic uproar. Poets could yet tune 
the harp to absurdity and extravagance, but who would 
listen ? In the times of ignorance, nonsense was winked at. 
But in the day it is certainly a horrible perversity of taste 
to prefer the waxen apple, because, in the night, it felt as 
smoothly as the real fruit. 

" Quitting this unholy comparing of poets who have done 
all according to the gift received, it will be sufficient to 
know that they have left behind them subject of noblest 
song, and laurels of immortal verdure to crown him who 
may be so happy as to gain the favour of the coy Sisters. 
And I think the very nature of poetry excludes the possibi- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 115 

lity of its subjects ever being exhausted. To please, to excite 
interest in existence, is the aim of poetry in general. By his 
success in this we ascertain the poet's merit, or the ' life of 
life which is in him.' If he warm the affections, delight the 
imagination, and awe the understanding ; and if the general 
tendency of his work be moral, it matters not whence he choose 
his subject, or by what means he attain his purpose. Other 
writers are confined by the boundaries of truth ; but the 
poet has the boundless regions of fancy before him. Nearly 
three thousand years ago, Homer reached forth his careless 
hand, and pulled, from the party-coloured fields, many a 
fair flower. Since his time, many have made excursions 
into the wild territories of imagination, and brought home 
with them abundant spoils. But her fields are rich as ever. 
The flowers which bloom there, though plucked to-night, 
will grow up ere to-morrow. Over the lawns of Fancy, 
Flora, with the rose and lily in her hand, for ever walks ; 
while Zephyrus breathes soft life on her cheek, and drops 
the dews of vegetation from his southern locks. 

" It is not so much the subjects, however, for the employ- 
ment of talent and genius, that are supposed to be exhausted, 
as the language for treating these subjects. Language, if 
we are to believe in the critics, has sold off absolutely with- 
out reserve. Before a critic can take a degree — that is, 
before he is licensed to condemn, if he pleases, all the pro- 
ductions of mind, of his own age at least — he must produce 
certificates that he has read all the books of note in the 
ancient Greek and Latin languages, and the few that are 
worth reading in the tongues of modern Europe ; provided 
he can make affidavit, at the same time, that he understood 
none of them. Now, as soon as a man of genius gives a 



116 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

production to the world, all the critics, from the Pillars of 
Hercules to the mountains of Aura, more terrible than that 

*****' pitchy cloud 
Of locusts ****** 

That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung,' 
gather round the unwary stranger ; and, as long - fasted 
Arctic bears gore and devour the carcass of some hap- 
less shipwrecked seaman, so the host of critics mangle 
and guzzle up the infant production ; and if, in ruminating 
— for their first feeding is so voracious, that relishes are all 
alike — they taste a phrase, figure, or comparison, which they 
ever chewed before, the author is immediately condemned as 
a thief or a robber ; and theoretic punishment, and some- 
times practical, awarded according to the critical offence of 
the crime. Of the modern poet, that figure or simile is 
traced to Homer, or to some other of the bards beyond the 
dark ages. Of the historian, this elegant mode of narration 
is brought down from the mouth of Livy, and that brief 
description warmed by the fiery energy of Tacitus. So far 
has this lust of finding every thing in the ancients driven 
some of our modern critics, that when no parallel to a modern 
passage under review can be wrung from the writings of anti- 
quity, it is proved, at least by a critic's proof, that the same 
plan or style would have been adopted by some ancient had he 
had the same subject to treat. A very learned philological 
professor was heard to point out several passages in the his- 
torical works of Dr Robertson, in the writing of which, 
although no parallel exists to them in Livy, the Scotch his- 
torian saw how that illustrious Roman would have expressed 
himself had he had occasion to handle the same subject. 
To perceive how Livy would have expressed himself on what 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 117 

he has left no specimen, and to know that Robertson first 
supposed how Livy would have done, and then copied the 
supposed manner, displays, no doubt, great perspicacity ; 
but the quick-sighted sometimes overlook the truth. Per- 
sian sibyls and Thessalian sorcerers pretended to see the 
shadows of coming events, which were never revealed to 
man ; and may not these our retro-seers have made some 
mistake in consulting the dark entrails of the past ? Cer- 
tainly no historian has written with more success than Livy ; 
but when we are told how he would have done what he 
never attempted, it reminds us of the fond mother who enter- 
tains us with an account of the many attractive graces and 
brilliant virtues which would have characterized her son had 
he not died in the cradle. That the men of genius, who 
lived anterior to the snaky reign of syllogisms, have left to 
us, their posterity, a bequest of inexhaustible value, would be 
unjust as well as unnatural to deny. But this, instead of 
shallowing or enfeebling the current of language, deepens 
and invigorates it. Language, as has been said of Dryden's 
genius, is ' strengthened by action, and fertilized by produc- 
tion.' A writer, in the infancy of language, is like the 
savage, who, embarking with his little canoe near the moun- 
tainous source of a river, is continually impeded and endan- 
gered by shallows, rocks, and cataracts ; while the author, 
writing in the maturity of speech, may be resembled to the 
sailor who, after the river, deepened and widened by many a 
tributary stream, has left the shelvy mountain, and smoothed 
its rugged current into an even flow, launches his stately 
bark, and, neither arrested by shoals nor menaced by rapids, 
rides along with graceful dignity. Every one who writes 
well leaves an inheritance to his successor, which will eDable 



118 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

him to write better, if his natural talent equal that of his 
ancestor. Milton, in his * Paradise Lost,' has availed him- 
self of the idiom and manner of almost every language of 
note ; and, by this means, he often gives a dignity and har- 
mony to his verse, which could not have been compassed by 
one situated less favourably for an acquaintance with lan- 
guage. Had the spirit of Chaucer entered our world poste- 
rior to Dryden, the author of the ' Canterbury Tales ' would 
have displayed his genius in happier shades, happy as they 
are. 

" * But,' says the critic, < you must admit that allusions, 
figures, similes, and ideas are exhausted. We find the same 
ideas, figures, and so forth, in one author that we see in 
another. There is nothing but plagiarism going on now-a- 
days.' Nothing would be more surprising than not to find 
a similarity of idea, and even sometimes near coincidence of 
expression, in authors who write on the same or similar sub- 
jects, and in like circumstances. The ground which yielded 
wheat two thousand years ago, will yield it at this day if 
cultivated in the same manner ; and the wheat that waves on 
the margin of the Thames, is not very unlike that which 
cheers the heart of the American husbandman. So what a 
Grecian thought might be thought by another in the same 
age, though divided from the Greek by half the globe; or the 
same thing may be thought by one placed in the Greek's 
circumstances, even now after Greece has ceased to think for 
two thousand years. 

" Nor is it necessary that an author should copy figures or 
comparisons, that they may be the same with those of prior 
writers. The same train of thinking will often lead to the 
same figures and similitudes. It was very customary with 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 119 

the ancient poets to compare the brave, proud, enraged 
warrior, rushing on his foe, to the angry lion taking ven- 
geance on some rebel subject, or impelled by hunger to 
destroy. But we are not to suppose from this, that one of these 
poets copied another. The similarity of the warrior to the 
lion is a part of nature, and alike the property of every one. 
What has been said of this comparison may be said of innu- 
merable more. They are suggested by a similar train of 
thought to men in the same and in different ages. 

" As to the philospher and historian, the searching and 
recording of truth is their chief aim ; and the best histo- 
rians and philosophers are sparing of ornaments. Truth 
requires no trappings. But always when a philosopher dis- 
covers a formerly-unknown truth, it will suggest something 
new for illustration, or some new shading of what has been 
used for illustration before ; and the comparison of the 
historian will ever keep pace with the march of events. 
Every new transaction which is recorded by the historian, 
and every discovery which is made in science, gives another 
subject of allusion and illustration to the moralist and poet. 
How much have these two classes of writers availed them- 
selves of the discoveries in astronomy ? Every day the most 
beautiful allusions and comparisons are made, which could 
not be made at an earlier period. Milton compares the 
shield of Satan to the moon seen through the Tuscan glass ; 
but he could not have made the comparison had he lived 
before Galileo. Nor could he have said, 

* * ' the tallest pine 
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast 
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand,' 
compared to the spear of the arch-fiend, had he lived at a time 



120 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

when the sound of the axe was never heard in the forests of 
Norway. It is needless to multiply examples. 

" That every simile used by the poet should be new, is 
not necessary. It is sufficient that he compare or describe 
from his own observation ; and then his work will entertain. 
The same idea may be represented in a hundred dresses, and 
yet in all be pleasing". 

" The following quotations, from some of the most emi- 
nent poets, descriptive of the sun's rising, will confirm what 
we have said. 

"'The morning sun,' says the royal poet of Israel,' 'is as a 
bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong 
man to run a race.' 

" Homer sings : 

''HXV2 (ASV KgOKOWTT'hOS sxfivctTO Troiaoiu lie CMC&V.'' 

Englished by Pope : 

' Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, 
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.' 

" And Virgil : 

' Oceanum interea surgens Aurora reliquit.' 

And again : 

' Jamque rubescebat radiis mare, et sethere ab alto, 
Aurora in roseis fulgebat lutea bigis.' 

" George Peele, an old English poet, says : 

'As when the sun attired in glistering robe, 
Comes dancing from the oriental gate, 
And, bridegroom-like, hurls throughout the gloomy air 
His radiant beams.' 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 121 

" In Sylvester, a poet prior to Milton, we have : 

1 Arise betimes, while the opal-coloured morn, 
In golden pomp, doth May-day's door adorn.' 

" The Bard of Paradise sings : 

' Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime 
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl.' 

And again: 

c Now morn, 
Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand, 
Unbarred the gates of light.' 

" Parnell says : 

1 At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, 
Along the wide canals, the zephyrs play ; 
Fresh o'er the gay parterre the breezes creep, 
And shake the neighbouring woods to banish sleep.' 

Again : 

* But now the clouds in airy tumult fly, 
The sun emerging opes an azure sky.' 

" Nor, after all this, is the variety of description exhausted. 
Listen to Thomson : 

' The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews, 
At first faint gleaming in the dappled east, 
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, 
And from before the lustre of her face, 
White break the clouds away ; with quickened step, 
Brown night retires.' 

And again the same Poet of the Year : 

' But yonder comes the joyous lord of day, 
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow, 
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad.' 

L 



122 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Burns, speaking of his Mary, tells us of his joy — 

' Till too, too soon the glowing west 
Proclaimed the speed of winged day.' 

" Here the critic would cry out, ' Where is the soul that 
would yet attempt to vary the description of the sun's morn- 
ing approach ? ' But does Henry Kirke White, though but 
a boy when he died, betray any folly in the following lines, 
when speaking, I think, of contemplation ? — 

' I will meet thee on the hill, 
Where with printless footstep still, 
The morning in her buskin grey 
Springs upon her eastern way.' 

And again : 

' Lo ! on the eastern summit, clad in grey, 
Morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes, 
And from his tower of mist, 
Night's watchman hurries down.' 

" The following passages bring before the mind the most 
sublime of all ideas — the Almighty walking on the winds and 
tempests. 

" The two immediately following are from the Psalms of 
David : 

' He bowed the heavens also, and came down : and darkness was 
under his feet. And lie rode upon a cherub, and did fly ; yea, he 
did fly upon the wings of the wind.' 

Again : 

'Who maketh the clouds his chariot; who walketh upon the 
wings of the wind.' 

Virgil in the ninth Book of the iEneid, says : 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 123 

' Quara multa grandine nimbi 
In vada precipitant ; cum Jupiter, horridus austris, 
Torque t aquosam hiemem, et coelo cava nubila rumpit.' 

And Shakspeare : 

' Bestrides the lazy-paced clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air.' 

Pope, giving us the same idea, says : 

' Not God alone in the still calm we find ; 
He mounts the storm, and rides upon the wind/ 

And Addison: 

' Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.' 

Thomson, speaking of the wintry uproar, says : 

' All nature reels ; till nature's King, who oft, 
Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, 
And on the wings of the careering wind, 
Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm ; 
Then straight, air, sea, and earth, are hushed at once.' 

" Henry Kirke White shows that the description may be 
yet varied ; 

' Stern on thy dark-wrought car of cloud and wind, 
Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's dead noon : 
Or on the red wing of the fierce monsoon, 
Disturb'st the sleeping giant of the Ind.' 

Again he says : 

* God of the universe ! Almighty one ! 
Thou who dost walk upon the winged winds, 
Or with the storm, thy rugged charioteer, 
Swift and impetuous on the northern blast, 
Eldest from pole to pole.' 

" In his ' Clifton Grove/ the same youthful poet has the 



124 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

following", which, although it has been blamed, has in it one 
idea bolder than any which I have quoted : 

' Here would I run, a visionary boy, 
When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky ; 
And, fancy-led, beheld the Almighty's form, 
Sternly careering in the eddying storm.' 
" In the subsequent passages, worth, which lingers out its 
days in obscurity, or excellence cut off by untimely death, is 
compared to the desert flower which never smiles to the eye 
of man ; or to the early flower blasted by frost or tempest. 
Ossian, speaking of himself, sings : 

' Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, 
that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on 
the blast ?' 

Gray, lamenting the obscure fate of genius, says : 
" Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' 
And Ogilvie, speaking of retired innocence, has these verses : 

' The lily, screened from every ruder gale, 

Courts not the cultured spot where roses spring ; 
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, 

And scents the zephyr's balmy-breathing wing.' 
In the s Scottish Probationer,' a lover, after telling of his 
mistress who died in all the bloom of youth and love, has 
these lines : 

' You've seen the lily's bosom spread, 
Pure as the mountain -drifted snaw, 
An' sighed to see its sickly head 

Amang the leaves condemned to fa'.' 

And Henry Kirke White, after singing of the vanity of 
youthful hope, says : 

' So in those shades the early primrose blows, 
Too soon deceived by suns and melting snows ; 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 125 

So falls untimely on the desert waste, 

Its blossoms withering in the northern blast.' 

" The beauty of these passages will, I trust, apologise for 
their number, which might yet be greatly increased. And who 
that has a soul, which can expand to let in beauty, and gran- 
deur, and sublimity, would wish one of them blotted from the 
page of poetry ? or who, that knows the power of a spirit 
warmed with celestial fire, will say that the ideas expressed 
in these passages, cannot be yet expressed so as to give a 
new, and a wider, pleasure to the mind of man ? The sic- 
caneous critic, or the meagre scribbler, may hang down his 
little head in despair, and murmur out, that what can be done 
is done already. But he who has drunk of Castalia's font, 
and listened to the nightly voice of the Parnassian Sisters ; 
who casts his bold eye on creation, inexhaustible as its 
Maker, and catches inspiration while he gazes ; will take 
the lyre in his hand, delight with new melody the ear of 
mortals, and write his name among the immortal in song." 

In this essay, as will be noticed, his strong predilection to 
poetry unequivocally appears from the comparatively large 
space allotted to it, and the whole strain and spirit of the 
writing about it ; from occasional expressions respecting it ; 
from the extent and variety of illustration brought to bear on 
it ; and from the acquaintance manifested with the subject. 
This, as it is easy to see, he considered his own department, 
and his proper sphere of operation — the field where he was 
to labour, and where he was to reap his harvest. When he 
wrote the essay, he had read with close attention the prin- 
cipal British poets, early and modern ; and already, as may 
be inferred, he was contemplating " subject of song," and 



126 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 

aspiring after " immortal wreaths, tempting the poet to take 
hold of the harp, and fling his tender hand across the strings 
of harmony." 

In the month of March, he passed, along with his friend 
Mr James Lambie and myself, the usual examination for the 
degree of Master of Arts ; and in the end of April, at the 
close of the session which concluded his classical curricu- 
lum, he received, with us and a number more, the degree in 
due form. 

It may be mentioned, that there are preserved eleven 
essays which he wrote for the Natural Philosophy class, 
averaging rather more than four quarto pages a-piece ; to- 
gether with an octavo volume of notes, extending to seventy 
pages, which he took from the lectures of the Professor. 

For the Mathematic class he wrote no essays ; but there 
are preserved eight thin octavo volumes of notes, amount- 
ing to a hundred and eighteen pages, which he took down 
from the Professor's lectures, embracing Geography, Alge- 
bra, Logarithms, Trigonometry, and Conic Sections. 

During the session, he had some intention of starting, 
at the close of it, a literary periodical in Glasgow, to gain 
something by his pen. He had spoken to Mr Marr and 
a few others, about contributing to it, and had himself pre- 
pared some materials for it: but he went no further with 
it, mainly, if not solely, on account of his health. Eight or 
ten papers of his materials for it remain. Two of them pos- 
sess extrinsic interest : they are both on the same topic, are 
founded on the same motto, and were written nearly at the 
same time, but are so different in form and expression, as 
scarcely to appear to be composed by the same person. They 
are curious, therefore, as showing how differently he could 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 127 

write on the same subject. On this account it seems proper 
to insert them here. They are as follow : — 

" ' Rectius occupat 

Nomen beati, qui deorum 
Muneribus sapienter uti, 
Duramque callet pauperiem pati, 
Pejusque leto flagitium timet.' 

Horace. 

" No saying is more common than that happiness is un- 
attainable on earth by mortal man. This truth is revealed 
alike by reason and revelation. After the transgression of 
the first man, the voice of the Almighty was heard in Para- 
dise, saying to Adam, ' Cursed is the ground for thy sake : in 
sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.' Job found, 
in his days, that ' man is born to trouble as the sparks fly 
upward.' After the great moralist Solomon had tried all the 
pleasures which wealth and honour could give, the heavenly 
judge in his breast pronounced them all * vanity and vexation 
of spirit.' Whether it is the aim of a man to add heap to 
heap, or to gather that he may squander away in criminal 
pursuits, his thirsting after more will still destroy his peace. 
The desires of man, like the grave, never say they have 
enough. On the very bowl of the voluptuary, ' repentance 
rears her snaky crest,' and want and remorse start up in his 
troublous slumbers. When the deep-sunk eye of the earth- 
grasping miser would cheat his watchful soul, and close 
itself in a moment's needful repose, a demon still thunders in 
his ear, < A thief! a thief ! ' Nor is it the miser and prodigal 
alone who taste the bitterness of life. Happiness left Para- 
dise on the wings of the < angelic guard ;' and we must climb 
to her heavenly residence ere she condescend to embrace us. 



128 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

The most unmingled cup that ever mortal man drank beneath 
the moon, had in it some drops of woe. This acknowledged, 
it needs not be the enquiry of man, in this world, ' How shall 
I be completely blest ? ' but, * What shall I do to diminish, 
in the greatest proportion, the drops of bitterness that are 
ever mingled with the cup of life ? ' 

" Horace tells us, that ' he who wisely uses the gifts of 
Deity, who suffers adversity with patience and resignation, 
and fears a stain of moral character worse than death, shall 
drink the fewest of the bitter drops.' And if our experience 
has not taught us that Horace is in the right, or if we wish 
a higher authority, we may have recourse to the Wise Man 
who informs us, that silver, and gold, and honours, are vanity ; 
that ' even in laughter the heart is sorrowful ; ' but that 
* wisdom's ways,' that is, cheerful submission to the will of 
our Maker, and charity to our fellow-men, ' are ways of plea- 
santness, and all her paths are peace.' And were we to quit 
this world for a moment, and view man standing naked and 
bare before the tribunal of his God, the superiority of virtue 
to every other qualification, in giving happiness, would need 
no proof. Man must give an account for all his deeds, and 
there will be ' no shuffling then.' He need not tell his judge 
what honours he enjoyed, how many heaps of gold he has 
scraped together, or how powerful he was in fathers and grand- 
fathers ; but he may plead, if he can, that he has dried the 
widow's tears, ' and kept himself unspotted from the world.' 

' The glory of one fair and virtuous deed 
Is above all the scutcheon on our tomb, 
Or silken banners over us.' 

Then, indeed, will every man know, what he may know 
already, if he pleases, that to * fear God and keep his com- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 129 

mandments is the whole of man,' the whole of his duty, and 
the whole of his happiness." — 

" ' Rectius occupat 

Nomen beati, qui deorum 

Muneribus sapienter uti, 
Duramque callet pauperiem pati, 
Pejusque leto flagitium timet.' 

Horace. 

» i "Who will show us any good ? ' is the murmuring enquiry 
of all the human race. e What shall we do to drive pain 
from all our bodies, that we may smile away our days in the 
soft embrace of pleasure, without recollecting the troubles of 
the past, or trembling at the evils of the future ? ' Who- 
ever investigates after this fashion, will never catch the 
phantom of his chase. The happiness which stalks on earth 
is no more than the ghost of her who once spread her all- 
blissful wings over the garden of Eden, but quitted it for 
purer skies and more flowery fields, when Adam tasted the 
fruit of death. It is only her semblance that is left behind ; 
and whenever I see a fellow-creature urging and sweating 
after the light steps of earthly happiness, it reminds me of 
one running and bustling among the graves and tombs of the 
dead to grasp the ungraspable spectres of the night. Who 
in his sober senses, that would not laugh at the ghost-catcher ? 
and yet he is equally lunatic who searches for complete hap- 
piness beneath the stars. She is perched on the tree of life, 
whose immortal branches cluster around the throne of God. 
Created, and upheld in being by the smile of the Eternal, 
she sits for ever in his presence, listens to the all-harmonious 
symphonies of ten thousand times ten thousand adoring 
hierarchies, casts her eye over the regions of immortality, 



130 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

brightens every countenance, fires and softens every note, 
and fills every heart i with joy unspeakable, and full of glory.' 
Thither, therefore, we must wing our way, if we would bask 
beneath the full beams of her joy. No doubt a ray some- 
times escapes from the immortal habitation, travels through 
all between, and gilds the head of a mortal man. But these 
beams fall on the head of the just only — on those who, she 
knows, by their begun course, are to terminate their career 
in the bosom of eternal blessedness. Why, then, search the 
sands for the harvest of plenty ? or why search earth for hap- 
piness ? This folly ought to cover the world with a univer- 
sal blush of confusion ; for who, at one period or another, has 
not sought on earth for that ' which is laid up in heaven ? ' 

" Are we, then, to abandon the search altogether, as 
i vanity and vexation of spirit ? ' In regard to earthly hap- 
piness, the wise have uniformly answered this question in the 
aflirmative. The pursuit of mere worldly happiness cannot 
be too soon relinquished by an immortal creature ; and the 
pursuit of heavenly delights cannot be too soon begun. The 
moment that a son of Adam resolves and labours to gain the 
fountain of inexhaustible joy, happiness acknowledges him as 
one of her sons, and refreshes and invigorates him with 
streams from the wells of immortality, in proportion to his 
activity and eagerness to reach her immediate presence. 

" Innumerable are the schemes which have proceeded from 
the fertile brains of men for fitting us to enjoy the most 
numerous visits from happiness, while we journey towards 
her mansions. To enumerate these would be to count over 
all that man has done or attempted. Horace, in our motto 
to this paper, points out one road to happiness ; namely, that 
1 he who uses aright the gifts put into his hands by heaven, 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 131 

whatever they are ; who is patient when favours are denied, 
or sufferings awarded ; and who fears worse than death the 
odium of a crime, shall enjoy the greatest proportion of sub- 
lunary delight.' This road is certainly the best that a 
heathen could point out ; and we may yet safely walk in it, 
if illumined by the rays of Christianity. ' Blessed are the 
pure in heart, the merciful, the peace-makers, for theirs is 
the kingdom of heaven.' In the order of place, happiness 
has her seat above virtue, who beckons and leans forward to 
hand us, if we will, up to her who smiles above. But we 
must rise by her assistance, or she will for ever turn herself 
between us and the seat of bliss. She offers us a sure con- 
voy ; a thousand tastes of joy by the way ; and a seat, at last, 
at the feast of immortality. Turn from her, and death will 
devour thee ; obey her requests, and live for ever." 

During his whole course of study at college, he regularly 
attended public worship, on Sabbath, in the Secession church, 
Duke Street, under the ministry of the Rev. Robert Muter, 
D.D., and it may be mentioned as a curious fact, attributable to 
I know not what cause, that, though he sat under his minis- 
trations five successive sessions of college, and derived much 
benefit from them, he was not known to the pastor, nor, so 
far as I know, to a single member of his congregation. Du- 
ring all that time, he was acquainted with only one family in 
Glasgow, and was never in any company but that of students. 
This arose from no retiredness or reservedness of disposition, 
but from his studious habits, or from want of time, and mainly, 
perhaps, from the fact, that the citizens of Glasgow and the 
students of the University, from dissimilarity of feelings, pur- 
suits, and interests, were not in the habit of associating to- 
gether. 



132 THE LIFE OF EGBERT POLLOK. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Being now fairly set free from college and all its engage- 
ments, his thoughts turned forcibly on his own circumstances ; 
and he became deeply and rather painfully impressed with 
the propriety and necessity of doing something for himself ; 
as the following letter, which he wrote to me immediately 
after going home from college, expressively shows : — 

" Mr David Pollok, No. 20, Portland Street, Glasgow. 

" Moorhouse, May 2, 1822. 
" Dear Brother, — I write this letter, you see, from Moor- 
house. My mind, like every other body's mind, is occupied 
about the past, the present, and the future. Yesterday, the 
first of summer, was as fully fraught with heavenly benevo- 
lence as any day ever shone on me. I was free, as you know, 
from all studential fetters, and in the best of company, the 
free, cheerful, liberalized, and pious. I tried to enjoy what 
God had given me to enjoy. I looked on the countenances of 
my friends, caught the warm comings-forth of their hearts, 
and heard their words swollen with a fulness of wish for my 
welfare : nor did their wishes leave their doings behind. I 
beheld the kind features of the sky, and cast my eyes on the 
variegated verdure and flowery dress of the mountain, the 
meadow, and the lawn. I listened to the grateful song of a 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 133 

thousand laverocks,* stationed in the middle heavens, or 
turned my ear to the varied raptures of the grove; and 
would fain have said with the poet — 

* My heart rejoiced in nature's joy.' 
And there was, indeed, an occasional moment when darkness 
fled from my soul, and allowed it to place itself in the attitude 
of enjoyment and gratitude — the homage most reasonable 
and most acceptable from man to his Maker. But soon did 
gloominess muster back its wicked banditti, and vex my soul 
with its wonted engines. ' What is bread if it be locked up ? 
what is the beauty of colour to the blind? what is the chorus 
of heaven to the deaf ? ' murmured I, * or what is the boun- 
teous glory of the morning day of summer to the penniless 
and unprovided scholar, fitted to know and correct the world, 
or weep, or laugh at it ; but, alas ! sadly unfitted to live in it?' 
" The question was sometimes put, and no one put it so 
often as myself, where was I to live, or what was I to do for 
the future ? I answered lamely, but the answer was lamest 
of all to myself. Neither my conscience nor my inclination 
set up a standard for me at Moorhouse. I have enquired, and 
am enquiring at every faculty, and power, and sense of my 
soul, at more than ever entered into the mind of < Father 
Jardine ' to conceive, — what shall I do ? The question 
presses itself on me, and will be answered. God direct my 
steps and yours. Adieu ! 

" R. Pollok." 

Having now finished the usual course of study at college, 
he turned his attention more directly to that of theology, 
in preparation for the grand object to which all his studies 

* Larks. 



134 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK, 

and pursuits were subservient— the ministry of the gospel ; 
and he soon tried his hand at writing a sermon. It is dated 
May 14, 1822 ; and the text is 1 Cor. iii. 3. " For ye are 
yet carnal ;. for whereas there is among you envying, and 
strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men ? " 

Early in the summer, he wrote two long letters to two of 
his most intimate friends ; which, having been returned to 
him, at his own request, after perusal, are now in my posses- 
sion. As they contain many of his opinions and sentiments, 
and mark very distinctly the progress of his mind, it is 
thought proper to give them a place here in succession. 

The first of them is to Mr David Marr, giving an account 
of a nocturnal adventure which he had in the month of May, 
and is, as a whole, a good exemplification of his variety, ver- 
satility, and continual activity of mind, and of his habits of 
attending to every thing that came in his way. 

" Moorhouse, May 1822. 
" Dear Friend, — The everyday path of man certainly con- 
ducts him the most easily and safely over the ruggedness 
of time ; but the history of those who are esteemed for wis- 
dom and prudence, would make, were it written, only a very 
flat entertainment to the reader. The sea, sleeping in 
silence, and the river, gliding gently along the plain or a 
level country, often meet with little attention ; but when the 
bold mountain lifts his brow on high ; when the river bursts 
from the precipice, and rages wide from its channel ; when 
the ocean gathers together his waves, and roars to break up 
his everlasting prison-doors ; every eye is fixed in attention, 
and every soul filled with astonishment. So it is with the 
romantic adventurer in human life. The picture which he 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 135 

leaves behind him is eagerly gazed at, because it is full of 
striking touches. A Bruce and a Knox are familiar to our lips ; 
but where are the hosts of common-place kings and priests ? 

" These reflections I have made, O friend ! although I know 
thou hast made them a thousand times already. But if we 
never think on what has been thought on before, we must have 
many hours of vacancy. Milton and Shakspeare are not 
always new, and what am I that am but of to-day, * and know 
nothing?' The pronoun I, like the cuckoo's note, makes an 
ever-pleasing sound in the ears of him who pronounces it. 
And I will, therefore, leave all, and speak of myself. 

" You know, my dear friend, I never write you the history 
of those days and nights of my life, which are common to me 
with the rest of mortals. For why should I tell you that I 
have read Virgil or Shakspeare all day, when you have, per- 
haps, done the very same thing yourself ? But I invite your 
attention to all my cometary motions. You may trace me, 
therefore, if you please, sometimes with your telescope, some- 
times with your microscope, round the following parabolic 
curve. 

" The sun that rose on the morning of the 14th of May, 
had refreshed his steeds at the halfway house, and was 
careering down, as usual, towards the portals of the west, 
when a few words, written on paper, presented themselves 
before my eyes. The process of vision began. The diffe- 
rent humours of the eye, aqueous, crystalline, and vitreous, 
performed the necessary refractions ; an image of the words 
was formed on the retina ; my optic nerve carried back the 
image to the brain ; and the brain most obligingly delivered 
it over into the hand of the mind : and I had now some ideas 
most legitimately and scientifically conceived. But how such 



136 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

ideas should ever have been sent to my mind, I could not deter- 
mine on any of the principles of human nature I happened to 
be acquainted with. I knocked at every door of my soul, 
asking for an answer. At the powers of understanding and 
will — at my senses, external, internal, and reflex, I enquired ; 
and travelled far into the back recesses of my imagination ; 
but could receive no satisfactory answer. Ignorance is very 
disagreeable, when we know we are ignorant ; and this was 
my condition — the more perplexing, too, as I was ignorant 
on a subject which involved part of my happiness. I tried 
to read ; but he who reads without attending, acts the part of 
a fool. I, therefore, rose from my seat ; took my oaken 
switch .in my hand ; went out at the door of my dwelling- 
place ; and, like the Israelites of old, journeyed ; and soon 
came to a considerable town* in the west of Scotland. By 
this time I had driven the paper ideas pretty far back into 
the swampy and desert places of my mind, so that they 
troubled me little ; and 1 resolved to turn my coming out to the 
best account. After hovering about the streets for some time, 
like a ghost that would fain speak out some deed done in the 
body, I recollected that every one in the town was not strange 
to me. This thought had scarcely sooner occurred to me 
than I called at a house, tenanted at the time — which was 
exactly ten at night on the clock of the town — by a damsel 
• exceeding fair to look upon.' I had seen her frequently 
before, but not alone, in such a place at such an hour. 
Ye, whose hearts are cold, stand aloof ! This is no scene for 
you ; and I despise your jeer ; your looks unholy I abhor 
I took her soft hand, and placed her near me. What feast 
was then ! Her eyes dispensed an everlasting sorcery, that 
* Paisley, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 137 

he who once had looked would look for ever. Her hair, in 
witching ringlets, hovered round her snowy forehead. Her 
ruby lips would have tempted the iron-hearted miser from 
his gold, and made his soul most liberal. Her form was 
symmetry itself, and life ; and over her wholly the powers of 
softness, health, love, and youth, for ever wished to wander. 
Beware, O friend! of any naughty conclusion. And, 'ye severe 
in virtue,' be not too hasty. Modesty sat on her brow, and 
checked every unrighteous marauder of my breast. 

" Bliss like this was * too kind long to last.' But I enjoyed 
while I could : and that is the art of living. At half- past 
eleven, I went forth from the place of delightful entertain- 
ment, intending to sleep at the house of a male acquaintance ; 
but I now recollected, emphatically too late, that I knew not 
where my friend lived. He was a remote man ; and there 
were few on the streets to be guides. I made some enquiries, 
however, and received civil answers, for which I heartily 
thanked the people ; but could find no clue to lead me to the 
lodgings of my acquaintance. To sleep in an inn was 
grievous to more than my conscience. The night was lovely 
and benevolent, and I soon determined to spend it in the 
open air. To sleep, even on the softest down, was out of the 
question at any rate ; my soul was too full of tumult and 
vexation. 

" After forming this resolution, I walked about the streets 
for a little, and saluted one of the watchmen, who proved to 
have ' peen porn and pred,' as he himself expressed it, in the 
north country. I asked Donald if he did not weary to walk 
about tbe streets all night ? Donald replied, cautiously, that 
he ' sometimes wearied a-wee, but no' muckle.' I said I sup- 
posed there were many of his countrymen in his employ- 



138 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

ment, as they were very trusty ' Ay,' quoth Donald, ' they are 
the best to be trusted.' * I believe,' said I, ' they are thought 
very trust-worthy ; and they are brave, stout fellows, too. 
The old man looked as if he could have taken me into his 
bosom, and pronounced, in a tone of triumph, that there 
might * be some no' sae true a ane amang them, too, but they 
are generally the straghtest.' 

? I left the old night-watching wight perfectly happy, 
because he was perfectly ignorant. He triumphed in a 
fancied good — the superiority of himself and his countrymen 
to other men. Why should philosophers, thought I, fight 
against national prejudices, or hold up the torch of know- 
ledge to the mind that is safely mailed in darkness ! This 
old man never thinks of his countrymen without rejoicing in 
their superior worth. In the darkness of midnight this 
thought is his stay and trust. Teach him the truth, and his 
visions fly. For although the Highlander's ignorant ferocity 
has gained him great renown in war, he is more justly known 
by those who will narrowly examine him, by suspicious 
stubbornness. His eye is the eye of the ox, heavy and dull. 
So keen is his liking of gold, that the dread of an ill name 
and the arm of the law restrain him, rather than any habitual 
principles of honesty ; and so lofty is his pride of soul, when 
he chances to gather of the world, that he knows none of the 
familiars of his goat-herding and heath-gathering poverty, 
and his gait on the street calls aloud, ' I am exceedingly 
exalted.' But Donald knew none of those things. Cease, 
then, O philosophers, to make men miserable by making them 
wise ! 

" Such were my cogitations while I journeyed a street that 
led me to the suburbs. At this moment, the hoarse Caledonian 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 139 

voice of old Donald, loud raised with the other watch, broke 
on my auditory nerve, and told me that it was twelve o'clock. 
I hasted away from the town by a road which led to a roman- 
tic wood,* about three miles off. It was now fit time for 
musing : my soul gathered itself together ; and, sometimes 
walking, sometimes standing, and sometimes leaning to a 
dyke or a tree, I communed thus : — 

" My soul, attend ! 'tis now fit time to hold 
High converse with thyself. The gay attire 
Of nature, which so oft wins on the mind 
And steals her from herself, is folded up ; 
The lark has dropped from heaven ; and still the choirs 
That poured the day-song from each leafy grove. 
The voice of man is hushed : I hear no laugh 
Of heedless mirth ; no sigh of sorrow loads 
The breeze of health ; the liquid fiery eye 
Of wanton beauty ; the bosom swelling wild, 
And all the form so softening into sense — 
The certain fall of the unwary youth — 
Eclipsed in darkness, poison not my eye. 
And Night, high in the middle- way of heaven, 
Rides in his ebon car, pondering on man, 
On slumbering man that thinks not of himself. 
But I will think : my soul is worth a thought. 

" Whence come I, then ? or whither do I go ? 
Oh, I am dark ! 'tis mid-night in my mind. 
A host of doubts start up, and war within. 
When shall the sun arise? — when shall I know 
The everlasting landmark that directs 
The soul to truth, to rest, and happiness ? 

" Thou kindly star, that left'st thy wonted course, 
And to the Babe of Bethlem led'st the men 

* Gleniffer "Wood. 



140 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Of eastern wisdom, pity me ; come forth 
And guide me to the dwelling-place of Truth : 
There dwell her offspring, Happiness and Peace. 

" Away each thought that bears not on myself! 
Who made me, then ? The child replies, ' My God.' 
The infidel, in reason lifted high, 
Laughs at the answer, but vouchsafes no better. 
And whither go I, when my foot slips o'er 
The edge of time ? The Christian's oracle 
Consigns my body to the dust, and lifts 
My soul to God, who cares for all his works. 
The infidel jeers at this brief response, 
And tells me that my soul is mortal too. 
Its hopes, its fears, its burning after fame, 
Its wide desires, its social love, and all 
Its great capacities of joy, cast out, 
Shall sleep for ever in the narrow grave. 
Hereafter is a bug- bear, held to view 
By kings and priests, to fright the senseless herd 
From all the joys of life, and make them meek 
Beneath the load of tyranny and want. 

" Now is the infidel or Christian right ? 
I will enquire a moment for myself. 

" This frame, so harmonized in all its parts, 
So fitted for the destinies of life, 
Is not a work of mine, far less of chance. 
Who gave this world a being, fixed the poles, 
Gave motion to the planets ? who upholds 
Them still in everlasting harmony ? 
Who made these lustrous eyes, that look from heaven, 
Innumerous, and watch the steps of Night ? 
Who bade the seasons roll their constant round, 
Now wafting from the bosom of the south, 
On zephyr's softest wing, the vernal heat, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 141 

That wakes the flowery slumberers to life, 

And stirs a general smile on Nature's face ; 

Now driving, far beneath the Southern Cross, 

The wain of night, and on our summer months 

Pouring the blaze of scarce departing day ; 

Now waving sober o'er the trusted fields 

The welcome harvest — the heart -cheering vine, 

And yellow corn, true staff of healthy life ; 

Now locking up the earth in stubborn frost, 

And from the treasures of the snow and hail, 

Deep covering all the vegetative race ? 

A few hours hence, who taught the sun to hide 

His glorious face behind the western cliffs ? 

And who again shall lift him from the east ? 

Who works all this ? It is not Adam's sons ; 

Nor chance ; nor aught that wants consummate skill, 

Unbounded might, and presence infinite. 

Who, then, possesses these, from Him I come : 

He must have made me, else I ne'er had been. 

" What sound is this that breaks upon my ear ? 
From yonder wood it comes — the cuckoo's voice. 
'Tis curious at this pensive mid-night hour ! 
Sweet bird of spring ! thou hast broke up my thoughts ; 
But I will weave thee in my song, and make 
Thy kind intrusion teach me to be wise. 

"Who formed thee as thou art, with wings to fly? 
Whence did'st thou learn that ever-pleasing note ? 
Who placed thee in the bosom of the spring, 
And taught thee to attend her flowery path, 
Unerring ? or why dost thou leave thy eggs 
To be warmed into life, and fed, and guarded, 
By little birds thou canst not bargain with ? 
Man taught thee not what man not understands. 
Thou did'st not teach thyself, else thou art wiser 
Far than I. Some being, then, I see not, 
Thee made and taught : the same most sure that stretched 



142 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Forth, curtain-like, yon heavens, and in them placed 
Those fiery hosts, the glory of the night. 

" Sweet bird ! I thank thee for thy midnight song ; 
Farewell ! and as thou fliest o'er earth announcing 
Spring and joy to man, this inform him too : 
' There is a God who made thyself and man.' 

" So much of my enquiry, then, is solved : 
From Him I come who made the heaven and earth. 

" But whither go I ? whither goes my soul ? 
Down to the grave, or up to endless day ? 
If to the grave, why do I think, forecast, 
Investigate ? why do I fear the future ? 
Why not, like other animals, enjoy 
The present hour, unheedful of the next ? 
Why can I picture, in my mind, a scene 
Of perfect bliss, where flaunts eternal spring ; 
Where every tree bows down with fruit immortal ; 
Where Flora ever walks, amid the rose 
And lily ; where rich nectar plenteous glides 
Through bowers, the fit retreat of rural angels ; 
Where on the zephyr's aromatic wing 
No mortal vapour comes ; where love is law, 
And where the din of strife is never heard, 
Nor ever seen the tear of parting grief ; 
Where never reached, nor sin, nor pain, nor death ? 
If in the grave my soul must ever sleep, 
Why does she pant for these immortal scenes ? 
Why does she wander through the vast of things, 
And dart her eye far in eternity ? 
Why does she voyage for improvement still, 
For ever taking in, yet never full ? 
Why is she fitted to be knit so close 
In all the dear and tender ties of love 
And friendships, brotherhoods, and mutual trusts ; 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 143 

Which were not worth the framing, if they wreck 
On death ? If, then, my God he good and wise, 
My soul shall never die. He could not make 
A thing, so fitted for enjoyment, just 
To let it see how much it might have done, 
Then close its eye in unawaking death. 

" That God is good and wise, I argue thus: 
I look upon myself, and plainly see 
Unerring skill in forming every part. 
Each animal, the elephant, and mite, 
And all between, corroborate the fact. 
In wisdom move the ever-circling seasons ; 
In wisdom swells the deep, in wisdom falls. 
The night and day, as round the earth they walk, 
In close success, proclaim their Maker wise. 
I make a visit to the starry heavens ; 
Behold the planets dance in endless maze, 
Around the nursing sun, unerring still ; 
And hear them swell the universal song : 
' Our Maker's might and wisdom, who can tell ? ' 

" That God is good, I gather from the joy 
O'er nature spread. I walk the summer morn : 
Ten thousand little insects sportive dance 
The sunny beam ; sublime in air, the lark, 
Full of devotion, lifts the mirthful song, 
Joining sweet chorus with the tuneful groves. 
Before me frisks the lamb ; the flocks and herds, 
High fed and happy, spread o'er hill and plain. 
A smile plays on the rippling rivulet ; 
The trees seem joyful in their bushy robes ; 
Fair Peace sits on the gentle lily's brow ; 
And love looks blushing from the rose's cheek. 
In autumn, too, I walk the golden fields : 
But who can tell the goodness then that waves 
To man, to beast, to every living thing ? 



144 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Yes, God is good to man : this very hour, 
How many millions rest, and rest in peace ! 
Each morn, how many millions wake to joy ! 
Why should I quote his reason, endless source 
Of entertainment sweet ? or why send out 
His fancy, roving infinite, to waft 
The rarest joys of all creation home ? 
Why turn his ear to music's heavenly tones ? 
Why open his nostrils to the morning breeze ? 
Or place before his eye the birthful spring ; 
The autumn, swelling every heart with joy ; 
The mountain forest, tossing to the storm; 
The cliffy peak, lost in the skies ; the moon, 
Riding august the starry vault of night ; 
And ocean's face ? — all plenishing his soul 
With thoughts how sweet, how worthy, how sublime ! 

" Need I seek proof that God is good to man, 
From all the social offspring of the heart ? 
The infant prattling on the father's knee, 
Or clasping innocent the mother's neck ? 
The sweet exchange of wedded looks ? the trust 
Of friendship, fearless speaking all the soul ? 

" But who are these ? where have I wandered now ? 
O ! I perceive : forgive my rude approach, 
Ye loving pair ! I will make haste away : 
'Tis most unholy to invade your bliss. 
But while I go, let me reflect on you : 
It was my errand out to learn from all. 

" Back from the critic-eye, the whispering tongue, 
Of man, these two have stolen, beneath the wing 
Of night, to mix their souls in holy love. 
O, 'tis a scene most fit, an hour most kind, 
For all the modest dwellers of their hearts, 
To meet in full embrace ! I could observe 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 145 

The gentle birch put forth her tender arras, 

And with the sacred hawthorn, tree of love, 

Weave amorous o'er their heads a canopy ; 

The violet and daisy, bathed in dew, 

In dew of May, flock round them, purest flowers ! 

Hard by their feet I heard a streamlet walk ; 

The hallowed zephyrs bring them incense sweet. 

'Twas well, so full their every sense of bliss, 

So full their souls, my foot disturbed them not ! 

Dear moment ! dearest far of man on earth ! 

Then only rivals angels' human joy ! 

Sweet pair ! farewell : your earthly bliss is full. 

The stars look kindly down, and spirits pure 

Give full assent. O 'tis your time to live ! 

I see already, hovering on the east, 

The harbingers of day, and ye must part : 

And who can say ye e'er shall meet again ? 

" Where was I when the lovers broke my thoughts ? 
My Maker's goodness was the pleasing theme. 
And is not this another proof most strong, 
That God is kind, supremely kind, to man ? 
I ask no more : that God is good and wise 
I must believe, else call my reason fool. 
Then shall my soul inherit endless life ; 
High o'er the vale of death, on god-like wing, 
Pursue her flight, defying all below ! 
For why could wisdom, goodness infinite, 
If not in power deficient, frame a thing, 
So great of thought, so capable of joy, 
To live, at longest, threescore years and ten ; 
A year, perhaps — perhaps another hour ? 

" That God can give my soul enfranchisement 
To endless life, why start a single doubt ? 
Who can resist his arm ? — who can abide 
The wrathful lightning? who the thunder's stroke 

N 



146 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Withstand ? Let Sodom and Gommorah tell ! 
Did Pharaoh's or Sennacherib's mighty hosts 
Rebel, and live ? Who poised the sun ? — the stars ? 
Who, quick as lightning, wheels the planets' mass ? 
Who shakes the solid earth, and makes her reel, 
Like one that's drunk ? or who lifts up, on high, 
The ocean's maddening waves, tremendous sight ? 
Or bids them sleep along the feeble sands ? 
'Tis God alone : and who shall doubt his power 
To lift my soul up to immortal life ? 

" From this short survey, now, what do I draw ? 
' There is a God who made and governs all, 
In wisdom, power, and goodness infinite ; 
Who made myself — who made my soul immortal.' 

" This short and simple basis of my creed 
The sceptic may deride, and call me rash. 
If he can better prove his unbelief, 
I shall renounce my creed, and laugh with him. 

" But how is this ? I feel again my woes. 
I thought this solemn midnight interview 
With heaven, and with myself, like holy words 
Spoken to a troubled ghost, my ills had laid ! 
But ye do haunt me still : the fondest youth 
Keeps not a better watch to taste the glimpse 
Of love, that steals forth from his mistress' eye, 
And gives him, what her words refuse — her heart, 
Than round my soul ye watch to work it pain. 
Oh, why is this ? If God is good and wise, 
If he has made me, made my soul to life, 
To endless life, why do I wander here 
In jeopardy ? A host of rebel passions, 
From which this watchful hour can scarce protect, 
Stand armed and ready to lay waste my soul. 
Already, much is desolate : behind 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 147 

Them grow remorse, and shame, and self-reproach ! 
The thorns and briers of the wasted mind. 
Why am I left to suffer scorn in word, 
Or deed ? Why do I hear a thousand moans 
I have no power to soothe ? why is my heart 
A scene of war, now loathing what it loved, 
Now loving what it loathed, unholy change ! 
Why wise to know the best, yet choose the worst, 
And whet the very sword that slays my peace ? 
If God is good and wise, why do I see 
So much might give me joy, so little feel ? 
Why bring the nectar to my thirsty lips, 
Without the power to taste ? why hang the grapes 
So tempting round, yet scorn my eager grasp ? 
O why, when goodness, beauty, youth, and love, 
Smile full assent, does Fortune's flaming sword 
Turn in between, and bid me stand at bay ? 
O Fortune! thou art most inhuman here — 
'Tis ill to bear — to keep me from myself, 
To wave thy sword 'twixt me and her I love ! 
If Heaven be kind and wise, why do I pant 
For fame, and kindle at the name of all 
The great of soul ; yet pant and kindle still, 
Mid pain, and poverty, and men obscure ? 
Why do I hate dependence so, and yet 
Depend so long ? Why wandering hopeless now 
Without a friend, that can in deeds assist ? 
Where'er I turn I meet, or think I meet, 
A frown ! To stoop to man is worse than death. 
My feet won't bear me to the haughty door. 
My knee won't bend in reverence to wealth. 
The fawning word would falter on my tongue. 

" If God is good and wise, why am I thus ? 
Not at the ports alone, the helmsman cares 
To guide his bark, but steers her through the deep r 
Shifting her oft to save her from the storm. 



148 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

But I am left to brave the tempest's wrath, 

The sport and tossing of each angry wave. 

Why am I thus ? what oracle shall tell ? 

Ye thoughtful stars, that walk in heaven, above 

All human clouds, and hear the gods converse, 

Will ye not look my ignorance away ? 

Spirits of light ! that from your piercing eyes, 

Have dropped the film of time, and see as seen, 

If e'er ye visit earth, this moment come, 

And let the riddle out, darker than that 

Which, but for guile, had baffled Gaza's sons. 

This is a holy time, a holy place, 

Your voice, by mortals yet unheard, will not 

Alarm me, if it bring the fit response, 

And teach me wisdom — teach me why I mourn. 

" Ah ! ye are silent all : I wait in vain ! 
Stand still, my soul, and answer for thyself. 

"'Tis out, the riddle's out; a whispering voice 
Within me says, ' The Lord is wise and good ; 
But thou hast erred, forgot his holy law, 
Chosen evil, when to choose the good was free ; 
And now thou weep'st : men, too, have freely chosen 
To work themselves and thee incessant woe.' 

" This is too much : I dare enquire no more. 
Each answer blushes with the shame it brings 
To me, to man, and tells that God is good, 
To all his creatures good, and just, and wise ; 
That I — that Adam's race are froward fools ; 
Knowing the good, and choosing still the bad ; 
Repenting still, yet ne'er forsaking sin ; 
Resolved to mend, and still becoming worse. 

" Eternal One ! great God of truth and love ! 
Resigned, I look to thee. O teach me truth ; 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 149 

Teach me the good to know, the good to choose, 
O save me from myself, from wandering man ; 
From every foolish deed, and word, and thought ; 
And guide my feet in wisdom's pleasant path, 
The path of honour, purity, and peace ! 

" With such thoughts as these, O friend, I employed my- 
self an hour. I threw them not into measure with any hope 
that they should live, but because, in all such contemplative 
moments, blank verse is the spontaneous language of my 
soul. The critics would, perhaps, acquit me of poetry. Let 
it be so. It would not be difficult to acquit whole hosts of 
them of common-sense. 

" And now, my dear friend, I returned to the town ; and, 
hadst thou been with me, thou mightst have heard Donald's 
sturdy voice telling thee that it was half-past one o'clock. 
At this time all seemed quiet in the streets. To re- 
lieve myself from languor, I again saluted one of the 
watch. He had been born and bred in the town which he 
was herding. His countenance, for I could now see some, 
was meek and melancholy, and his whole figure would have 
made one think him ill-fitted to keep the foxes and wolves 
aloof from the fold of mankind. To this post, however, he 
had been destined, I suppose, by God and man ; and at it, 
therefore, he stood. As his countenance betokened, he talked 
to me with great civility. I asked him if he was in the 
police about two years ago, when there was evil in the nation. 
He said he was, and that amid great fear and trembling. 
He knew that the people were oppressed, and he pitied them. 
He had resolved, however, as well as almost all his fellows, 
if any serious uproar had happened, to keep by the upper- 
most warrior. I said to myself, ' Is this the faith of the King's 



150 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

men ? Surely thy pay was small, for < money answereth all 
things : ' < it maketh a man most loyal.' I enquired into the 
nature of his duty, and into the whole institution of police. 
He had a street of considerable length to guard from the 
evils of the night ; and by his diligence, the inhabitants slept 
in peace, and their goods remained, till the rising of the sun. 
Moreover, he was a companion of owls, and had all kinds of 
weather to endure ; and furthermore, he had to tell the people 
if it was fair or rainy, pleasant or boisterous ; he had to meet 
often, in doubtful battle, the bloody desperado of night, of 
which several scars on his peaceable face gave ocular proof; 
and he held, too, the important office of announcing to the 
forgetful inhabitants the flight of time, but for which, some 
of them had, perhaps, mistaken it for eternity ; and on him 
lay also the weighty charge of watching the progress of fire, 
and he had often saved human beings from being burned up 
alive : all these and sundry other burdens lay on the shoul- 
ders of this one being. ' You will surely/ said I, ' have a 
liberal pay from your townsmen ; they cannot take so much 
service for a mean reward.' ' My pay,' said the poor man, 
1 is only eight shillings a- week ; and this is all I have to 
subsist myself and a numerous family.' ' Why,' said I, ' do 
you continue with the ungrateful beings ? The robber and 
thief should devour them, the fire should burn them, or they 
should sleep for ever, ere I should stir myself for such a paltry 
reward.' The man sighed as he could ; wished he could leave 
them; but there was ' no better job to be got; and eight 
shillings a- week kept him and his family, although no more, 
from absolute starvation.' I now wished him a good morning, 
and went on execrating the ingratitude of man ; and although 
but a mole in politics, I could not help seeing the difference 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 151 

of those who sit in the senate-house and make laws, from the 
poor beings who stand in the night to defend them. « It was 
not so/ said I, < in Athens and Sparta. Every Spartan, 
every Athenian, was a nobleman. There, every man gave 
laws ; every man fought for his country ; every man could 
rise to the highest dignity. But this is neither Lacedemon 
nor Athens. This is Scotland, the land of freedom/ 

" I was musing in this manner when a golgotha, or place 
of skulls, arrested my attention. It was large, and sloped 
towards the north. The long grass, nourished by the fatness 
of human dust ; the sad gray stones that give note of man's 
mortality ; and the red turf, still marked with the sexton's 
spade, were now faintly lighted up with the straggling fore- 
runners of day. I stood and beheld the place. How still 
are the mansions of the dead ! I heard no one slander his 
neighbour ; no one strove and jostled for the uppermost seat. 
I heard no din of angry theologies. The Cameronian, who 
never prayed for his king, and the established Churchman, 
who never prayed for any thing else, slept in kind embrace. 
Nothing like ambition, hurrying on with a sword in one 
hand and a chain in the other, was to be seen here. I heard 
not a single groan of slavery. I saw no people-blinding 
farce kept up between Whig and Tory. I saw no cumbrous 
pensioners strut about. No one knocked at another's door 
with a tax-paper in his hand. No one was dragged to jail 
because he told the truth; and no one rode in his chariot 
because he had learned to lie. No one called slavery free- 
dom, nor freedom slavery. None oppressed ; none complained 
of oppression. No angry wife drove forth her husband to 
drunkenness and debauchery ; no silly husband taught his 
wife to rule over him, and no dissipated one broke the heart 



152 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

that loved him. The widow and the fatherless mourned not, 
that landlords had taken their all, and driven them forth to 
want and nakedness ; nor could I hear a single landlord say, 
' What else could I do with them? my house was my own.' 
I saw no fopling affect to despise the man of worth, nor twist 
his gaudily caparisoned body to attract a momentary glance. 
No centurion girt himself from the shape of nature ; and no 
clerk, or soap-dealer, mimicked the costume and stiff-mea- 
sured pace of the man of tactics. I could see no coquette, 
no fine miss, bred to all but industry, fluttering along. 
No innocent daughter feared, and believed, and mourned, 
the tongue of falsehood ; no villain boasted his triumph ; 
and no foolish youth turned in by the gates of destruc- 
tion. I saw no table for the voluptuary. The sons of 
Bacchus were silent. No miser hungered, and trembled, and 
lied, and damned himself, for gold. No one held down his 
head because he was poor; nor lifted it up because he was rich. 
My ear perceived not the voice of fame ; my eye saw not the 
face of envy. No critic thirsted for the blood of genius ; no 
pedant rose by detraction. The bare-coated scholar of worth 
gave not place to the gilded head of emptiness. None 
praised his neighbour, that his neighbour might praise him 
in turn. I heard not a single man commend himself for vir- 
tues which he never had the power of violating ; and no one 
took applause for avoiding crimes which he was unable to 
commit, or for conquering vicious pleasures by which he 
was never assailed. ' There is no vice, no suffering here,' 
said I ; ' but alas ! there is no virtue, no pleasure. No lover 
grows happy in the arms of his mistress. The face of friend 
brightens not the face of friend. The bridegroom rejoices 
not over the bride. The child prattles not among the gleams 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 153 

of a father or a mother's love. The feast of reason is broken 
up. The meek eye of patience, the ever-giving hand of be- 
nevolence, the plain words and determined front of patriotism, 
the great endeavour to make mankind happy, have no place 
here. No one praises his Maker. O death, how silent is thy 
habitation ! And yet it is liker heaven than the busy world. 
' There was silence in heaven half an hour ; " but vice never 
ravaged there. Death, thou art cruel to man ! But what after 
all hast thou made by it? On love, and friendship, and 
goodness, thou never laidst a hand.' And here I was just 
about to tell death that he could not kill the soul, when I 
recollected that I had reasoned with the gloomy king about 
an hour ago, and come off victorious ; and why should I 
triumph twice in a night ? I looked again steadfastly on the 
place of graves. ' Ah ! the inhabitants are quiet,' said I, ' and 
I shall soon be as quiet as you ; and not only I, but all the 
busy world, all the inhabitants of the globe, in a few years, 
must lie down with you ; ' and the worms shall devour them.' 
A thought like this, one would think, might slay the worldly 
ambition of man ; but it will not slay his worldly ambition. 
I feel it will not slay my own, and why should I expect it 
will slay that of others ? 

" I now hasted away from the territories of the dead, and 
came to the banks of a river, which passes the town. It was 
the very place where a most unfortunate Scotch poet* 
drowned himself. I had read his songs with great delight. 
Their tender, artless simplicity had often touched my heart ; 
and a tear from my eye now mingled with the waters, while 
they followed those to the sea, that carried with them the 
last sob of the bard. ' Men were too cruel to thee,' said I ; 
* Kobert Tannahill. 



154 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

' thou wast too cruel to thyself! How happy hast thou made 
me! how miserable wast thou thyself! I never read a song 
of thine, but my soul is filled with nature and simplicity; 
nor ever lay one by without a tear for thy fate. Genius, 
want, and neglect — Oh I they are ill to bear. But what has 
become of thy soul ? I will not hazard a thought. ' Shall not 
the Judge of all the earth do right ? ' 

" It was now between two and three in the morning. I 
turned myself about hastily to return a salutation which 
I had received from four of those human beings who 
sometimes think it fit, instead of sleeping or praying, to 
spend the night in pouring out libations to Bacchus. They 
were young, genteelly dressed, and withal seemed more zealous 
to worship their god with merriness and nonsense, than with 
rudeness or brutality. One of them saluted me by the name 
of Dr Tait, a gentleman, I suppose, belonging to the town. 
He soon perceived his mistake, however, for which he begged 
my pardon eleven times, and I forgave him as often. I talked 
as civilly as I could to the lads ; and it was curious to hear 
their conversation. One of them told me that ' this wark 
was na gude for the sowl ; but yet,' quoth he, ' I'm nane 
frightet for him either ; his kilns are a' fu' enou. Huzza ! 
lasses and wine! lasses and wine!' — 'Very good things in 
their own places,' said I. — ' And out of them too,' said he. 
He then told me that the fact was, he had taken a pill from 
the doctor this morning — meaning, however, the morning of 
the past day — and it had raised such a horrible convulsion in 
his ' inside,' as he expressed it, that he had just gone ' to the 
public-house to see an' lay the mischievry o't ; but confound 
the doctors/ quoth he, < and their pills too. Jean Michael 'ill 
gae o'er selling whisky to a body that has a saxpence, or I 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 155 

swallow ony mair o' their trash/ — < Very well said — keep your 
word,' replied I. — ' My word,' quoth Bacchus, swearing, <wha 
said I ever brak my word ? If I had him here,' swearing 
again, < I wud mak' his ribs as saft as Jamie Dale's sow's ither, 
great calf!' I told him, I supposed no body questioned his 
word ; and after about twenty volleys of oaths on the man 
who should doubt his word, he became quite peaceable. He 
told me that he did not repent his drinking. He meant, he 
said, to do without sleep altogether this summer. I told him 
I was not asking him to repent : I was out as well as he was, 
I said ; and, perhaps, as much to blame. I requested him, 
if he wished to make confession at all, to go and confess to 
some one better than himself. I had no sooner said this than 
he became all penitence together — for he had not the face 
of hardened dissipation — and said he had not been out for 
many a night before, and would not be out for as many again. 
So much better is gentleness than rebuke for enticing the 
wicked from the error of their ways. 

" I walked with the Bacchanalians to their designed homes ; 
but ' the door was shut.' All of them were very young ; the 
spirit within them was beginning to subside ; conscience 
was commencing his task of rebuke; and they hung at a 
lane's mouth in a state which virtue never envies. The 
effects of drunkenness crowded on me here. Two of the 
police walked by with a rioter between them. They held 
him fast by an arm, and went down as thou goest towards 
the jail. One of the watch, who stood by, told me that the 
being I had seen passing in the paw of the law, was one of 
those unfortunate mortals who are imposed on by every 
one ; who are never sober when it is possible to be drunk ; 
who ' mean little ill,' but never do any good. The silly 



156 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thing, I understood, had been often led to jail before. ' Poor 
wretch,' said I, « it will be well if he escape a halter !' Even 
now, an old Highlander came up, cursing and damning every 
one he could meet, and sometimes his own soul, because he 
had lost a snuff-box. He asked me if I had seen it. I said 
I had seen it nowhere on the street. He then begged par- 
don for such a rude question, and cursed on, and lamented his 
box with much real sorrow, for it had been a family piece. 
When I heard the taking of the name of God in vain, and 
the cursing of men, wrath was kindling within me ; ' but why 
should I be angry?' said I; 'they shall be all quiet soon. 
Soon shall the sexton, the doorkeeper of death, bury them 
out of sight and out of hearing ! God be merciful to them ! ' 
I looked again. I heard Donald bewail that he had been in 
Jenny Riffle's ; and he doubted he would never see his box. 
Between the two officers the half-idiot went heavily towards 
the prison-house. At the lane's mouth hung, with black 
countenances, the once joyful sons of Bacchus. None of 
them, I saw, were happy. And I went off, leaving a strong 
proof behind me of the truth of the old moral apothegm — 
* Vice is its own punishment.' 

" And now, O friend! after several little adventures which 
I will not trouble thee with, I walked out of the town. So 
still and serene was the morning that I could hear it strike 
three on a clock eight miles off. I now strolled about, watching 
the coming forth of the sun from the chambers of the east. 
This is a beautiful event, my dear sir ; but alas ! it is an 
event which many of the human race never saw. This is, 
indeed, ' the sweet hour of prime.' The kindness of the sun's 
face came laughing up the east, and blushed over to the west. 
The blackbird chanted its wild notes from the soaring 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 157 

willow. The sweeter lays of the mavis fell kindly on my 
ear from the pensive birch. Sublime in air, the devo- 
tional lark warbled praise to the Creator, and pleasure to 
man. Round me, on the infant harvest, on the violet and 
daisy, hung the parting tears of the morning. The fields 
and the groves smiled with double life, and seemed in holy 
contest to vie with the living world. The plane, the beech, 
and the chestnut, waved their broad foliage to the virgin- 
hand of the gentle breeze. The pea-tree bended its modest 
head, covered with locks of lovely yellow ; and the white 
hawthorn mingled its inspiring perfume with the incense of 
the sweet-brier and lily. This is a beautiful scene, my 
friend ! thou hast often seen it ; but, alas, I repeat it again, 
many have never seen it! The hawthorn, the blackbird, and 
the lark, are sufficient for me. I have never heard the queen of 
songsters, Philomela. But I intend soon to make a journey 
to the south of England for the sole purpose of hearing her 
sing.* Thomson — all the poets mention her in rapture. 

" I was looking at the orient, listening to the blackbird, 
and inspiring the hawthorn, when the morning whistle of a 
mortal caught my attention. My eye soon discovered him. 
I went up to him, and observed, that he rose soon. He rose 
always as soon, he replied, in summer. He rented a garden, 
consisting of three acres ; and laboured and watched it 
chiefly himself. I commended him, while he invited me 
through his garden, for his early rising and industry, and 

* From association, how affecting is this sentence ! I can never read 
it but an indefinable, chill, feverish, melancholy, foreboding shock goes 
through me wholly ; and my heart swells, and my eye fills. He did, as is 
known, though not "soon," yet, alas! too soon, "make a journey to the 
south of England." Would that it had been "for the sole purpose of hear- 
ing" the nightingale "sing ! " 



158 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

neatness in gardening ; and I promised to visit him in the 
time of fruit, just because he rose so soon. He pointed out 
to me some cabbage which a travelling gentleman had assured 
him were the earliest in the kingdom. Because the gentle- 
man had said it, and because the gardener wished to believe 
it, he did believe that his cabbage were the best, at the 
time, in the nation. Perhaps the good gardener was deceiv- 
ing himself; but let none laugh. Noblemen have become 
poets, students have become prize-gainers, and ladies have 
become beautiful, just because there was a saying and a 
believing. This man had the good countenance of virtue, 
industry, health, competence, and contentment. He walked 
out of his garden with me ; and as we went, I could not help 
contrasting him with the sons of drunkenness and riot whom 
I had so lately seen ; and I repeated loudly to the man, < Vir- 
tue is its own reward.' 

" I now wished the gardener a good day, and walked along 
the margin of a field of wheat, which he had told me was a 
minister's glebe. The minister, too, he had told me, had a 
great stipend, but was ' terrible lazy.' For him who has the 
care of souls to be full-fed and lazy, I thought was a thing 
which * ought not to be.' I reflected on the establishing of 
religion by civil law, and the establishing of priests by 
patrons, and I saw it was ' an evil under the sun, and common 
among men.' I remembered that it was said in the New 
Testament, * Go ye into all the world, and preach the 
gospel to every creature.' ' Carry neither purse nor scrip ; 
eat such things as are set before you.' But I could not 
recoDect a single passage in that holy book — to walk accord- 
ing to which all the clergymen swear — that establishes a 
priest in a church with £400 a-year, with the privilege of 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 159 

doing as little for the good of souls as he pleased. Patronage, 
and not the Bible, does this. To become an able minister of 
patronage, then, you must have these requisites, which, God 
grant, my dear friend, you and I may never have. You must 
glorify your patron in all things : you must hate what he 
condemns, and approve what he loves. You must have an 
accommodating conscience, and an accommodating tongue. 
You must be wicked when he is wicked ; and serious when 
he is serious. You must not pray against the sin which he 
loves, should it be oppression, drunkenness, or adultery. 
Nor must you pray for a virtue which he never means to 
possess. You must flatter him when you address your 
Maker ; and ' lie for him against your own soul.' You must 
not see him when he comes from the theatre or the gaming- 
table ; and you must stop your ears when he blasphemes his 
God. You must tell your Maker to prosper every endea- 
vour of the great men, should it be to ' grind the faces of the 
poor.' You must be able to bow the knee low to man, flatter 
without meditation, and condemn or acquit without any 
attention to evidence. You must renounce the upright form 
of man, and walk before the great on your belly like a ser- 
pent. In short, you must be able to say to every magistrate 
and patron, with Balaam's ass, < Am not I thine ass, upon 
which thou hast ridden ever since I was thine unto this day ? ' 
Now to be able to do all this, and to swear cheerfully, at 
the same time, to the Confession of Faith, written at West- 
minster, is the broad way to a fat living in the Church ! 

" And, after you have got your kirk, you may preach what 
you please, and as seldom as you please. You have no occa- 
sion ' to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, or 
to keep yourself unspotted from the world.' You may never 



3 60 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

be seen in the dwellings of poverty, nor among" those who 
mourn, nor at the sick-bed of any one less than a thane. 
And you may eat and drink, and grow fat on the best of the 
land. You may be a glutton and a wine-bibber. You may 
spend all the week in the arms of sense, and leave the table 
of your patron at twelve on Saturday night ; and it will be 
nothing to your discredit that your trusty servant John have 
to keep you in proper balance as you go to your carriage. 
And all this you may enjoy, with a good conscience, to the 
end of your days, provided you ' continue in all things, writ- 
ten in the book of your patron to do them.' 

" These, my friend, are some of the effects of patronage ; 
but there are more. Its influence extends to Dissenting 
ministers. When a great man leaves the Establishment, for 
some motive I do not enquire after, so fond about him, gene- 
rally speaking, is the Dissenting pastor, and so keen to 
keep him from returning to the church of his fat neighbour 
Levite, that the great man is permitted to walk in his own 
way, and in the sight of his own eyes. The great man, too, 
considers his dissenting a favour to the Dissenting society, 
and a little disgraceful to himself; and he, therefore, claims 
this license, in return, of walking in his own way, to the great 
grief of many of the godly. The great man, too, has good wines, 
good mutton, and good jovial conversation : you will, there- 
fore, see the Dissenting minister going oftener to his dwell- 
ing than to the house of the poor and needy. So you see, 
my friend, that patronage compels the Established clergymen 
from obedience to the New Testament ; and allures many a 
Dissenting minister from the service of his Master. 

" Communing thus, I looked again on the wheat of the 
priest. It was healthy and luxuriant ; but my soul despised it. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 161 

For I remembered that thus saith the Lord, ' Son of man, pro- 
phesy against the shepherds of Israel ; prophesy, and say unto 
them, Thus saith the Lord God unto the shepherds, Woe be 
to the shepherds of Israel that do feed themselves ! Should not 
the shepherds feed the flocks ? Ye eat the fat, and ye clothe 
you with the wool, ye kill them that are fed ; but ye feed not 
the flock. The diseased have ye not strengthened, neither 
have ye healed that which was sick, neither have ye bound 
up that which was broken, neither have ye brought again 
that which was driven away, neither have ye sought that 
which was lost ; but with force and with cruelty have ye 
ruled them. And they were scattered, because there is no 
shepherd : and they became meat to all the beasts of the 
field, when they were scattered. My sheep wandered through 
all the mountains, and upon every high hill : yea my flock 
was scattered upon all the face of the earth, and none did 

search or seek after them Therefore, thus saith the Lord 

God, Behold, I am against the shepherds ; and I will require 

my flock at their hand I will even send a curse upon 

you, and I will curse your blessings ; yea, I have cursed them 

already ye are departed out of the way, ye have caused 

many to stumble Therefore have I also made you con- 
temptible and base before all the people.' I now went away 
from the field of wheat, saying to myself, ' If these are the 
curses of the unfaithful shepherds, ' O, my soul, come not 
thou into their secret ; unto their assembly mine honour be 
not thou united !' The Lord hasten the destruction of patron- 
age in his time ! Thank God that all the clergymen have 
not bowed the knee to Baal. 

" It was now between four and five, and I wished to have 
a smoke ; for thou knowest, friend, I sometimes take a 



162 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

smoke. Friends, acquaintance, and ladies, have entreated 
and rebuked that I should shake myself out of this ill habit. 
Whether I am stubborn and wilful I know not, but so it is 
that I smoke even to this day. I remembered that an old 
female acquaintance lived in the suburbs, who was also a 
smoker ; and I knew she would haste to let me in as soon as 
she recognized my voice, and heard my errand. It was so* 
I knocked at her door. Her dormitory was so situated that 
she could let me into her house quite easily without stirring 
from her bed. I begged her pardon for disturbing her so 
early ; and told her to ask me no question about my early 
appearance. I got my cutty lighted up, and smoked a full 
quarter of an hour, talking a commonplace word now and 
then to the old wife in bed. 

" On a table beside me lay a book : it was a comment 
on the Revelation of John. I lifted it and read. The 
commentator, like most other commentators, pretended to 
clear up all that was dark in his author. But, alas ! like 
most other commentators, too, he held his ' farthing candle 
to the sun ;' and when darkness came I lost him in it. Here 
I could not help thinking that the expositors of the Revela- 
tion of John have begun to comment without apprehending 
the general intent of that prophecy. They will explain it 
all. Now, if man could do this, he would understand the 
leading events which are to befall the Church to the end of 
the world as clearly as God understands them. But this is 
not the design of the prophecy. It is true that ' the wise 
are to read it ;' but they can understand it only in part. 
Every century makes the Revelation plainer ; and the last 
century of time will develope parts of it — open some of the 
seals which all the ingenuity of men could never break up 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 163 

before. Would not wise commentators do well, therefore, 
thought I, to keep in mind, that although the wise are to 
read and understand the Revelation, they are not to under- 
stand it all yet ? 

" While I was thinking thus, my mind wandered from the 
comment to the wonderful book itself. ' What immortal 
[thoughts] must have swelled the breast of the prophet ? ' 
said I, ' when he heard behind him a great voice, saying, I 
am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last ; when he turned 
to see the voice that spake with him, and saw seven golden 
candlesticks : and in the midst of them, one like unto the 
Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and 
girt about the paps with a golden girdle : his head and hairs 
white like wool, as white as snow ; and his eyes as a flame of 
fire ; and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a 
furnace ; and his voice as the sound of many waters ; and hav- 
ing, in his right hand, seven stars, and out of his mouth going a 
sharp two-edged sword ; and his countenance as the sun 
shineth in his strength!' What must have passed through 
the seer's soul, said I, when he * saw four angels holding the 
four winds of the earth ;' when he ' saw a mighty angel 
come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud, and a rain- 
bow upon his head, and his face as it were the sun, and his 
feet as pillars of fire ;' and heard, ' when he had cried, seven 
thunders utter their voices ! ' It was surely a great wonder, 
in heaven, even to John, < a woman, clothed with the sun, 
having the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of 
twelve stars!' How could he stand when he 'saw seven 
angels in heaven with the seven last plagues, which filled up 
the wrath of God ! ' It was a strange sight to see ' an angel 
come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless 



164 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

pit, and a great chain in his hand ; and lay hold on the 
dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, and 
bind him a thousand years ! ' And John saw, too, ' the 
heaven and the earth pass away;' he saw heaven — he saw 
the great God sit on his throne ; he saw ' the pure river of 
the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne 
of God and of the Lamb ' — he c heard the voice of harpers 
harping with their harps I ' 

" I was going on in these sublime thoughts, when some- 
thing produced an uneasiness in my hand, which happened 
to be in contact with some clothes that lay beside me. It 
was a bug ! I started to the middle of the floor, and threw 
myself into a posture of defence, as I always do on such occa- 
sions. I saw the enemy posted around me in great numbers, 
but I was now on my guard. I threw a glance over on the 
bed of the old wife sometimes. She was combating it with 
the bugs, too, I saw. Forty years had she fought with them 
in doubtful battle ; and this morning she was shifting her 
old carcass from side to side, in her bed, as a pilot shifts his 
vessel in a head wind, to break the onset of the bugs. i She 
is now on the retreat,' thought I : ' her enemy will triumph 
over her soon.' 

" I stood on the middle of the floor and thought seri- 
ously of bugs. Dirtiness is their nurse. There are mil- 
lions of them in our towns. They are one of the greatest 
curses of the lower classes. How many dirty people must 
there be in the nation, therefore ! * Will no one, said 
I, * no one of those who write long books to point out the 
true means of ameliorating the condition of the poor without 
reducing the revenue of the great, rather write a treatise on 
the proper method of destroying bugs ? A treatise of this 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 165 

kind might be of some use ! < Were I a prince/ said I, 
' there should not be a bug in my dominions. I would set a 
price on the head of every one of them.' And would it not be 
as noble a sight to see the executioner beheading a bug 
because it had bit the neck of a lady, or made some weary 
mortal want sleep all night, as to see him beheading a human 
being because he complained of oppression ? 

" Several of the enemy were by this time gathering around 
me. I made an attack, laid three great bodies of them life- 
less on the field, and equalled them with the number of the 
three great oppressors of mankind — prime ministers, devils, 
and kings. 

" I now wished a good day to the old wife, and made my 
escape with great precipitation. For not more does the 
surgeon fear that his wealthy patient will recover too soon ; 
not more does the glebed parson fear that the price of grain 
will fall ; not more does the lawyer fear that his client will 
be reconciled to his antagonist, than I, O friend! fear 
bugs. 

" I now walked through the town, and posted myself on a 
little eminence, which placed before my eyes a beautiful, cul- 
tivated country. Through it winded a river of considerable 
size ; and it was bounded to the north, whither I looked, 
with mountains, rising, now gently, now abruptly, till they 
were lost in the sky. The king of day had lifted himself up 
high in the east. While I looked on this scene, the bells of 
the town rung six o'clock. I cast my eye over it again and 
again. Every thing was happy. Happiness sung from every 
tree, looked from every flower, and played on every field. 
< And I shall be happy too,' said I. In a moment I turned 
myself round, and, quick as thought, came and knocked at 



166 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the door of her to whom I introduced thee, O friend ! last 
night. She was up, for she is a daughter of industry. In 
the house with her was a sister, and no other. I looked a 
little fatigued ; and was asked why I had left my lodgings 
so early ? I answered, and said, that I had been early out. 
I was treated with all the kindness which mortals could treat 
me. With ' dispatchful looks,' breakfast was prepared ; and 
I partook thereof. The god of sleep would now be worship- 
ped. I could not go to bed. The elder sister was full of 
sweetness, good sense, and modesty. She was one of those 
whom thou hast seldom seen : she did all the good in her 
power ; she did to others as she would be done by ; and she 
did all this because she loved to do good — because she loved 
her God and her fellow-mortals. She soon perceived where 
I wished to sleep, and goodness and mercy attended her. I 
sat down by her of whom I told thee last night. The smile, 
the health, the kindness of morning, sported on her face. I 
could not look to it. Four chairs suddenly placed themselves 
in a row. I laid my head on a pillow. She covered it up 
gently with part of the robe at which she sewed, and I fell 
fast asleep. It was a pleasing bed. 

" These, O friend ! are the chief of the thoughts, words, 
and deeds of the night, faithfully related. They are various, 
as thou seest. I certainly spent the night better than he who 
spent it in revelling and drunkenness ; but if thou sleptst it 
in peaceful sleep, thou, perhaps, spentst it better than any 
of us. 

" R. POLLOK." 

The other letter is to Mr Robert Pollok, giving an account 
of his taking the degree of Master of Arts. Happening, in 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 167 

the course of his last session at college, to tell him that he 
and I intended to take it, his friend said, " And what good 
will it do you ?" — " Illuminate us," he replied. — " Very well," 
said Mr Pollok, who was then living at Girvan, in Ayrshire, 
" when you take the degree, write to me, and let me know 
how much light it gives you, and what I must profess to get 
it." In June, he wrote to him on the subject ; and the letter, 
which will, perhaps, be regarded as a literary curiosity, 
affords, in its plan and execution, considerable data for form- 
ing an opinion of his mental qualities, and of his attention to 
literature. 

" Moorhouse, June 11, 1822. 
" O Robert ! wash thy hands, and trim thy head, for I am 
about to introduce thee into the awful presence of the mighty 
in wisdom. 

" It was on a clear morning in the month of March eighteen 
hundred and twenty-two, that the two-leaved gates of the 
grand Senatus- Academicus Hall of Glasgow University were 
thrown open to receive, into the august interior, myself and 
two more of the sons of Adam. And here were our deeds 
done at college to be judged by the men illustrious in science. 
If we had done well, we were to be lifted up to the illumina- 
ting honour of Master of Arts ; if we had not done well, we 
were to be cast out with disgrace. This, O Robert ! was a 
momentous crisis. The great bell rang. We rose from our 
houses, gathered ourselves together, journeyed by the great 
High Street, passed the outer courts, and drew near to the 
grand hall itself. The gates were open, as I said ; but be- 
fore the entrance stood the renowned Doory, greater far on 
that morning than the keeper of the holy books of the Grand 



168 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Lama ; and round him waited the ghost of Cerberus, and the 
vigilant shade of many an ancient janitor : 

*****' Scyllaeque biformes, 
Et centum-geminus Briareus, ac bellua Lernae, 
Horrendum stridens, flammisque armata chimera ; 
Gorgones, Harpyaeque, et forma tricorporis umbrae.' 

Which, when we saw, we threw down the 

' Melle soporatam, et medicatis frugibus offam.' 

The mighty Doory expanded his devouring jaws, snatched 
up what had been thrown down, and quietly lay flat on his 
belly. We occupied the passage and entered in. The hall 
was awfully solemn — the mighty work of other years ! On 
prodigious massy tables lay, thick piled, volumes of names, 
whose fates had been fixed — volumes so enormous, that two 
men, < in our degenerate days,' could not have stirred them 
from their places. We were placed in order, and before us 
rose the appalling tribunal on which our judges were to sit. 
We were alone. Deep silence reigned through the hall of 
trial. We waited the approach of our judges ; our ears 
listened attentively, and we heard a foot coming. Trembling 
seized on us ; when, lo ! D. K. Sandford, mighty in Greek, 
was ushered into the hall. He walked up smartly to the 
judgment-seat, and sat down. On his right hand sat the 
Graeco-Latinum et Latino- GraBcum ghost of Schrevelius ; on 
his left, took place the goblin of Young, with Anacreon's 
little winy spirit on its right arm ; with its left hand, it 
gathered into it the copper ghosts of some fines ; and was 
altogether in the attitude of lecturing on ara. Our judge 
now opened the book, and began. Every man answered for 
himself; and the great Areopagite went off, saying our 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 169 

( works would stand,' and with him went the ghosts of Young 
and Anacreon, howling as they went. 

" In the mean time, we were employed in thanksgiving and. 
in praying to Mercury. Again the tread of a foot was heard, 
and, in a moment, Jacobus Mylne, the illustrious metaphysi- 
cian, sat down before us. The ghost of Locke sat on his 
right hand ; the graceful shade of Cicero took his left, with 
the book of ' Offices ' under its arm ; and the passionate spectre 
of Cogan whispered behind him, l Passions are the result of 
conceptions of the mind, or conceptions themselves.' Far in 
the distance howled many an empty shade, lamenting their 
divisions of mind while in the body. On the blast, the goblin 
of Reid, actuated mostly by mechanical and animal principles, 
was heard wailing its confusion while in the flesh. It ad- 
mitted, that it had never been able to prove the existence of 
an external world ; but ' neither,' grumbled it, ' does Mylne's 
yearly- created man prove it?' On our duty to God, to man, 
and to ourselves, we were now judged. Our credentials were 
clear. The judgment descended not to actions ; and we 
rejoiced because we were acquitted. The great metaphysi- 
cian went out and left us, and with him departed the ghosts 
of Cicero, Locke, and Cogan ; and multitudes of those spirits, 
which had cut themselves into numberless pieces when dwell- 
ing in their earthly tabernacles, shrieked away after him, 
beseeching him to bind up their wounds ; thus offering an 
awful lesson to those who would wickedly divide that ever 
whole-acting thing — the soul of man. 

" We had now become accustomed to a judge and a judg- 
ment-hall, and we were entertaining ourselves with observa- 
tions on the little mangled ghosts which had just departed, 
when the great Roman, with the goddess of ceremony 



170 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

hanging on his left arm, most genteelly entered the hall, 
ambled on foot up to the judgment-seat, and sat down in 
strict obedience to the finest etiquette. On his right hand sat 
down the prodigious grisly goblin of Bentley, pronouncing, 
on its own authority, * This is the true reading' of this and 
this verse of Horace. The female French ghost of Madame 
Dacier took its seat, with most marvellous ceremony, stiffened 
with a little of the pedant's air, on the judge's knee ; and, oh 
horrid ! the ghost of the poem on * Order,' for it had long 
since quitted the flesh, waited mournful at his feet, and 
wished it had never been born. The great professor threw 
a pitying eye down on the poor Tory-spectre of the poem; 
and while he looked he dropped a tear, for he remembered 
that, low as it was now, it was once the son of his strength. 
The judge wiped away the big parental drop from his eye, 
for it is not becoming in a judge to weep, and proceeded with 
our trial. We were most fashionably acquitted. And the 
great Roman descended from the tribunal. The goddess of 
ceremony still hung on his arm, and the thin feminine spirit 
of Madame Dacier climbed up from his knee, and sat light 
on his bosom; for although she appeared a cold woman 
while in the body, she acknowledged now, as she departed on 
the professor's breast, that she would have been better em- 
ployed, when in the flesh, in bringing forth sons and daugh- 
ters, than in translating Homer. Bentley attended him ; and 
we thought we heard the lyric voice of Horace upbraid the 
great critic-ghost for introducing into his works many words 
that he never used. Thus accompanied, the mighty Latin 
pedagogue went out ; and, oh miserable shade ! the scarcely- 
living spectre of ' Order' followed after him, calling him 
father, squealing as it thought on the cruel i Edinburgh 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 171 

Review,' which sent it with a groan to the Stygian shades ; 
and shrieking wildly? 

* * * * * ' Ne, me terrete timentem, 
Obscaense volucres ! alarum verbera nosco, 
Lethalemque sonum. ****** 
***** q q U8e sa ^j s a ^. a defeat 
Terra mihi!' ******** 

" While we were lamenting the fate of this most miserable 
ghost, the venerable form of Father George Jardine appeared 
before us. He also sat down on the judgment-seat, skilful 
in logic. On his right hand the god of mental divisions took 
his place ; on his left sat the rule-giving and rule-keeping 
dry ghost of Blair. The old logic spirit of Ramus of Ver- 
mandois was in attendance. The divisional spectre of Watt 
looked in at the door ; but when it saw our faces, and our 
hatred to an everlasting separation of parts, it turned and 
went out of sight. On our powers, faculties, and capacities 
of understanding and will, reason and knowledge, judgment, 
taste, and communication ; on our senses, external, internal, 
and reflex; on our agility at managing Barbara Celarent, 
Darii, Ferio, Baroco, Camestres, and so forth ; on our ac- 
quaintance wuh the Enthymeme, the Sorites, the Dilemma, 
and the Epicherema — astounding words ! — and on our skill 
in Eubulides' sophisms, the veiled, the horned, and the bald, 
we were now examined and judged. The voice of Tully was 
heard sweetly persuading our judge to put few questions in 
Latin. The eloquent voice said, it could not bear, even in 
death, to hear its language abused. The great logician 
could not resist the mighty orator's ghost ; and he came 
suddenly to English, and we were quickly found without 
blame. The judge^ retired — the god of mental divisions still 



172 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

on his right hand ; and the once-principal-spirit of Blair 
went on his left, with the book of ' Belles-Lettres' under its 
one arm, and a great chest full of rules under the other ; and 
it sighed and said, ' Were I again in the flesh, and employed 
in making sermons, I would try, if I could, to write them in 
energy, weightiness of idea, and fulness of gospel, as well as 
in rule.' The ever-dividing shade of Watt joined the retinue 
of the logician as he went out at the door, where it had been 
waiting ; and, O glorious ! the plain voice of Socrates was 
heard high in air, saying, < Reverence Father Jardine.' 

" We were all gazing to catch a glance of Socrates, when, 
tremendous sight ! the great Doctor of natural philosophy 
rolled up on the tribunal. Mars and Jupiter stood still to be- 
hold him. The great professor of nature had not many ghosts 
in attendance. We thought, however, we saw in the distance 
the dark goblin of Gregory, with a treatise on forces, and the 
problem of three bodies in its hand. I thought myself I heard 
the voice of Kepler's shade talking about the three laws 
which it had discovered while in the flesh ; and one of my 
fellows observed the mechanic ghost of Ferguson, at a dis- 
tance, turning over the pages of Newton before the eye of 
the doctor. Alas ! thought we, where are the mighty shades 
of Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton? We hoped now to 
have seen them; but we understood, that among the vast 
crowd of their worshippers, even the great doctor had been 
entirely overlooked. He had prayed earnestly to have some 
of their honourable ghosts in attendance on this great occa- 
sion ; but ah, piteous rejection! the three mighty spirits, 
without ever turning an eye to his request, had set out, the 
preceding night, from the constellation of Orion, on an ex- 
ceeding swift fiery comet, to observe once more the effects 






THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 173 

of gravitation throughout the universe ; and they carried 
with them three prodigious telescopes, that is, the ghosts of 
telescopes. What could the great judge of nature do ? He 
placed the one knee along the other, brought himself to his 
centre of gravity, and, attended as he was, commenced, in an 
elliptic orbit, our trial. On motion and forces, on the four 
winds, on the starry heavens, on the waters above and the 
waters below, the firmament, on heat and cold, light and 
darkness, thunder and lightning, we were now examined. 
Phcebus, the great revealer of nature, happened, at this 
moment, to be in our hemisphere. We profited by his 
beams ; and the professor, in a parabolic curve, expressed 
his satisfaction of our devotion to nature. As the judge, 
from a state of perfect inertia, rose, destroyed his equili- 
brium, and gravitated down from the judgment-seat, we 
heard multitudes of semicircular ghosts, unnoticed before, 
gathering about his feet ; which ghosts, because of gravita- 
tion, had never been able to rise from the earth ; and they 
lamented, as gravity held them down like lead, that their 
souls, after the death of their bodies, had not been freed from 
that heavy law as well as Newton's ; but a voice, I thought 
that of Huygen's geometric shade, came from a distance, 
saying, ' Poor gravitating goblins ! ye scarcely ever under- 
stood what Newton discovered and demonstrated.' 

" We thought we heard the doctor, as he retired, sigh and 
fear lest he might yet be drawn down among these grovelling 
ghosts, and we were listening to certify ourselves, and hear 
if the voice of nature would comfort him, when lo ! one 
famous in mathematics, a ghost himself, although still in the 
flesh, entered the hall, forming, as he entered, Archimedes's 
spiral. About him fluttered a thousand spectres of angles, 



174: THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

circles, rectangles, parabolas, rhomboids, and gnomons. The 
great geometrician sat down most exactly on the tribunal, 
and looked most pitifully on his chalky offspring. We could 
barely observe with our microscopes the little angular spirit 
of Simpson occupy a point on his right hand ; and in as 
small compass on his left, in the form of an algebraic radical 
sign, sat the calculative goblin of Bonnycastle, raising a 
binomial to the enth power. These had come without applica- 
tion, for the cultivation of the great mathematician's prayer- 
faculties had been neglected in his youth, and they were now 
become entirely dormant ; an awful example this of the effects 
of neglect to early culture ! Clear Demonstration was seated, 
or would fain have been seated, on the oblong disk of the 
professor ; and we had now to throw our faces into an angu- 
lar posture of thought. The trial began, and an awful one 
it was, for we had not to do with flesh and blood. Points, 
lines, angles — occupying no space — parabolas, ellipses, hyper- 
bolas of conic-sections ; A B C quantities, pluses, minuses, 
n x y with great power, came and went before us. We 
stood on our feet, each man with his staff in his hand. We 
prayed, and Euclid heard our voice. What could the mighty 
son of Simpson do when Euclid was on our side, but open 
his mouth and say — ' And we shall stop here.' We did stop ; 
and our works were found perfect. 

" Our geometric judge now descended from the judgment- 
seat, and as he descended he described a right-angled triangle, 
the base of which, as his thin figure happened to stumble, he 
very conveniently formed himself, to the great safety of his 
chalk. As we had now given our account with credit, we 
were all attention to the departure of this great man of 
fluxions. Many ghosts, all of them, however, invisible to the 






THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 175 

naked eye, and occupying nothing of space, flocked round to 
help him up. Whether they raised him by the binomial 
theorem, or in the same manner that a straight line is erected 
at right angles to a given straight line, we could not say ; 
but certain we are, that we heard a curious thin triangular 
voice proceeding from all the ghosts, saying, ' He has been 
most mathematically raised I Don't you see him up ? that is 
demonstration.' He now walked away in a right line, and 
thousands of spectres, moving in the different conic sections, 
followed after him ; and, as they went, they confessed that 
they had dealt too much with ghosts while in the flesh. One 
of them, which had been rather compelled, I suppose, to the 
study of mathematics in the body, cried aloud, in a tone of 
irony, ' He that shall first catch a ghost shall be able fully 
to conceive a point without breadth, length, or thickness, and 
lines, as many as he will, occupying no space!' These 
shades, which were empty shades indeed, now left even our 
microscopic sight ; and the last of their voice that murmured 
on our ear was — * A is equal to B.' We wondered why the 
shades of Euclid, Apollonius, and Archimedes, had not made 
their appearance ; when a voice, I suppose that of Descartes 
of Touraine, I mean the voice of his ghost, whispered in our 
hearing, < They are ashamed of the University. They meant 
not that fools should be professors of mathematics, nor did 
they mean that mathematics should make men fools.' As 
the voice ceased, and just as the mathematician's last idiot- 
gesture was disappearing, we heard the three great quad- 
rangular ghosts themselves howling far in the blue silence of 
Benlomond. Their pale faces' grew red with indignation, 
bloodless as they were, when they beheld their degenerate 



176 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

son ; and they turned themselves away, and sighed each in 
the words of iEneas, ' Hei mihi, qualis erat ! ' 

"After this great judgment was over, we hasted each of us 
to his house, and employed ourselves in acts of thanksgiving, 
in pouring out libations, and in purifications, preparatory to 
that all-disclosing day when we were to be crowned Master- 
of- Arts. The coming of this day we both hoped and feared. 
In the mean time, the ineffable two-headed pious Principal 
consulted with Haman and Ahithophel, and the other minis- 
ters of his court, to appoint the day of our illumination. 
And while these transactions were going on on earth, Chro- 
nos called an assembly in the starry mansions, and fixed the 
day to the eleventh April eighteen hundred and twenty-two. 
Mercury was dispatched to earth with the mandates of Chro- 
nos. With his winged sandals he cut the liquid air, and in a 
shower of gold alighted in the pious Principal's pocket. The 
two-headed pious Principal soon recognized the god by his 
yellow robes. And not more joyously did Danae, daughter 
of Acrisius, receive Jupiter when he came to her in gold, 
than thou, O pious Principal ! receivedst the messenger-deity. 
All thy doubts were now cleared away as to the worthiness 
of the candidates ; and, in obedience to Chronos, thou didst 
fix on earth the day of our illumination also to the eleventh 
April eighteen hundred and twenty-two. Mercury flapped 
his wings about to set out for the upper regions, but the pious 
Principal held him, and would not let him go, ' because,' said 
he, ' I cannot part with any thing in the shape of gold,' But 
the messenger of the gods was not to be kept. He changed 
himself into the likeness of good Port-wine ; and passing 
secretly through the body of one of the Principal's domestics, 
escaped into the starry regions. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 177 

" The eleventh of April came ; and Sol stood still, to all 
appearance, in the midst of heaven, when we, and other seven 
mortals also to be enlightened, entered the hall, once of judg- 
ment, now of illumination. The hall had still the same aw- 
ful countenance as on March. We stood upright on our feet 
in a straight line. Our great professors and judges entered 
the court, attended exactly by the same ghosts, placed in the 
same manner, as on the preceding day of trial — only Locke 
had left the right arm of the great Mylne, and in the room of 
the < human understanding' ghost, waited the fierce spirit of 
Wolff. The judges stood also on their feet. We were all 
waiting anxiously for the pious Principal and his retinue, 
when lo ! he came, and with him many ghosts, but most of 
them sine nomine ! Paul, we understood, could not be there ; 
Calvin had refused to come ; and the stern soul of Knox, on 
application, said, for John had wit as well as religion, ' Where 
are the Principal's principles ? ' We were much disappointed 
when we saw none of these famous spirits ; and we were as 
much surprised to see Mammon on the right hand of the pious 
Principal. On his left haod came no goblin that we could 
name. The dry Principal ghost of Blair, which stood, as I 
mentioned before, on Father Jardine's left hand, could not 
bear to see the great pious Principal in this state ; it left 
the logician's, and took the Principal's left hand ; and the 
rhetoric spirit of Campbell of Aberdeen immediately filled up 
its former place. Thus accompanied, the pious Principal took 
his august station. He also stood upright. All was in readi- 
ness ; our judges each, with his own voice, approved us ; the 
mysterious crown-of-science lay on a great table, and we 
heard a voice commanding us to fall down on our knees. We 
quickly obeyed the voice, and fell down on our knees. And 



178 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

now, O Robert ! put off thy hat, for I am come to visions. 
The pious Principal lifted up his clean hands to heaven, and 
prayed in an unknown tongue. I could observe the polite 
ghost of Blair also gather itself into the attitude of prayer. 
Mammon would not turn his eyes from the earth. Except Mam- 
mon, then, and the mathematician and his ghosts, all prayed 
with the pious Principal ; and we, being on our knees, beheld 
a great light shine into the hall. The pious Principal, while 
he yet spoke, lifted the mysterious illuminating crown, and 
placed it on the heads of all of us, one after another. Over 
some of our heads, the crown, which knew well what was in 
them, hovered reluctantly ; but Mercury, when he came in 
the shower of gold, had ordered, and the pious Principal 
pressed it down. 

" This was a glorious moment, O Robert ! Still on our 
knees, we lifted up our eyes ; the roof of the house passed 
away ; and behold, Science, high on a great mountain of 
crystal, sat before us, gloriously displayed in her own native 
brightness. No spirit of worth lingered behind. On her 
right hand, O how honourable! sat the mighty Sir Isaac 
Newton, and the goddess held him by the hand ; and near 
him were seated Pythagoras, Copernicus, and Galileo. On 
her left hand took place Socrates, Plato, Seneca, and Locke. 
At her feet stood Bacon, because of bribes ; but still she 
looked kindly on him, for she remembered her fetters which 
he loosed. Before her stood thousands of mighty scientific 
souls, Egyptian, Grecian, Roman, British, and Gallic, whose 
names I could scarcely recount had I ' ten tongues, ten mouths, 
an irrefragable voice, and a brazen heart.' The sound of 
music was heard. And O, how did my soul kindle within 
me, when I saw and heard Homer, Virgil, Shakspeare, and 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 179 

Milton, harping on their harps! How rapturous were Pin- 
dar and Horace, and Dryden and Burns ! With them thou- 
sands of true poetic souls, heard and unheard of on earth, 
joined chorus ; and the Muses, with their lyres, completed 
the symphony. 

' What notes, what harmony, what lays we hear ! 
Ten thousand tunes unknown to mortal ear.' 

While we listened, the music ceased. Science rose from her 
seat, and in all her native brightness and beauty displayed 
herself before us ; and turned herself into all pleasing atti- 
tudes, white and naked. Darkness departed from our souls; 
and light and knowledge entered in. O, how our minds 
expanded while we gazed ! ' Not Paris on the piny top of 
Ida panted stronger when the rival goddesses stood all unveiled 
before him,' than we, while Science stood thus confessed, in 
all her majesty, fairness, whiteness, beauty, and truth. 

" All that mortal could be made to understand, we now 
understood ; and to the grand swell of immortal measures, 
Science, with the great of her retinue, again sat down. 

" Now, to the west of the mountain of crystal, opened a 
great valley of shadows, in which were all things not to be 
understood by mortals ; and all the ghosts of those whose 
writings, when in the flesh, no one, not even themselves, 
could understand. Science waved her fair hand, and pointed 
that we should look down. To look away from her upon 
these dark regions was disagreeable indeed ; but to obey her, 
at this moment, was all our duty ; and we, therefore, imme- 
diately looked down. For our benefit, the shadowy place 
was partially lighted by a ray from the hand of Science ; and 
we now began to contemplate the unintelligible regions, 



180 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

when, lo ! there, beneath a thick cloud, was seen the syllo- 
gistic ghost of the once mighty Stagyrite, and with him ten 
thousand Grecian sophists, and all the innumerable multi- 
tudes of scholastic goblins ; and we heard them in horrible 
dispute about the form, mode, and reduction of syllogisms. 
Aristotle was tossed himself between the horns of the ghost 
of a dilemma. Here lay the all-comprehending works of the 
Stagyrite, and ten thousand times ten thousand millions, 
and millions of millions of the bristly, barking, snaky ghosts 
of commentaries, which had been written on the Peripatetic's 
works. This was a sight of gross darkness ; and the angry 
noise of dispute was horrible. We turned ourselves away 
from it, satisfied that, as all the ghosts who were there under- 
stood nothing, we could learn nothing from them. 

" We now directed our eyes to another quarter of the 
Valley of Shadows. Here was seen the ghost of Spinosa, 
with his dictionary of evil under its Jewish arm ; and with 
him the spectres of many an infidel companied. Near this 
sat the material ghost of Priestley, imitating the making of a 
man ; and, alas ! sighed the great goblin of matter, as it had 
nearly finished him, ' Why, sir, will you not live ? ' A little 
further along the valley, we saw Democritus, but he had 
never come to his euthymia. Here, also, was Anaxagoras 
with his homcemeries, still calling snow black, although he 
never believed it. The ghosts of many Jews were seen with 
the Habbahir in their hands — a book which ' gods themselves 
could not understand/ Moses Maimonides insisted still on 
< sidereal destiny.' Among them were raging and howling 
the horrible evil spirits Klippoth, disturbing all others. Over 
against these, in thick darkness, appeared the ghost of Ray- 
mond Lully, called, while in the flesh, The Illuminated 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 181 

Doctor. It held upon its visionary head the ' Ars Lullus- 
tica,' and affirmed still that truth might be discovered with- 
out reason ; hut yet he acknowledged he had never met with 
it. Among the shadows with him, were ten thousand unrea- 
sonable ghosts who had also been visionaries in their life. 
The goblin of the author of the * Wonderful Name' was 
near this place ; and John Baptist Van Helmont was observed 
in the ghost of a balloon, pursuing spirits which he could 
never take. While we looked on these places, they suddenly 
grew darker ; and lo ! a great cloud of other ghosts came in 
among the former. Down in the gulfy parts sunk Rene 
Descartes, whirling round in a vortex, and muttering with 
great caution, * I think : therefore I am. Before any man 
admit his existence, let him " be fully persuaded in his own 
mind.' " Gpdfrey William Leibnitz came up galloping at 
full speed on the ghost of a monad ; and we understood that 
he was seldom seen in the Valley of Shadows. Diogenes, in 

* search of an honest man,' and Father Malebranche, still 
unluckily only in the ' search after truth/ came up on the 
goblins of two salamanders at equal speed. It was curious 
to hear, through the gloomy air, the ' vibrations ' of Hartley's 

* mechanical' ghost ! With him, also, associated ten thou- 
sand with their works, who in the flesh had written strenu- 
ously on the ' communication between mind and body.' In 
the Egyptian part of the valley, which was very large, were 
seen ten thousand hieroglyphics, the spectres of ten thousand 
stones, engraven in ancient years ; and medallions innume- 
rable ; and among them sat the retrograde goblins of five 
thousand antiquarians, still endeavouring to read ; but still 
they confessed they could not understand, and there was 
none to teach them. Near this place was a great empty 



182 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

bulk ; and we heard the ghost of a voice saying, ' I am Scrib- 
blerius, or Legion,' because they were many — even ten mil- 
lions ; and among them snarled the hungry ghosts of ten 
million critics. Near this, the volumes were prodigious ; 
and the very shadowy emptiness was formed, as much as 
possible, in obedience to the goblin of rules. The critic- 
ghosts themselves were mostly in warm pursuit after the 
spectres of words ; and, as they pursued, they cursed the 
words, calling many of them illegitimate monsters. But 
the wordy spectres seemed always to escape out of their 
hands. 

" To the east of the valley were theologic ghosts, with 
their works — a very great number. Prodigious tomes on the 
Apocalypse of John, which tomes neither man nor angel 
could understand : none were found worthy to read them. 
Most marvellous was the number of the ghosts of books, 
written by one sect against another. The little, innume- 
rable, ill-naming, sophistical, Scripture-wresting, reasonless, 
stupid goblins, still wrangled loudly among themselves ; and 
every one said plainly that it was better than its neighbour 
ghost : and we heard many a one of them — differing very 
much from Balaam — cursing ' whom the Lord had not 
cursed/ Brotherly love was as rare among them here as it 
had been on earth. But they still sware to love one another, 
each his neighbour as himself. Many shades of party books, 
written by Catholics ; many, written by Episcopalians ; many, 
written by the Scottish Establishment ; many by Reliefs, by 
Seceders, by Cameronians, by Independents, and by sects 
which time would fail me to name, lay here — the very shades 
of the books being dead, although many of their authors still 
live on earth. It is a hard thing, thought we, for a father to 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 183 

witness the death of his own children. But these authors, as 
they are mostly necessarians, console themselves with the 
thought that none could help it. And, O how glad am I 
to think that they are not left both childless and comfortless ! 
While we looked to the dead shades of these once angry 
pamphlets, we heard a voice as if coming from their authors 
on earth : 'We shall go to you, but ye shall not return to 
us ! ' The ghosts in this place, which were, as I observed 
before, very many, had differed, we understood, on earth, and 
still differed here, more from ill-nature, interest, and stupi- 
dity, than from principle or the love of their Maker. We 
were alarmed with a weary goblin, which rode far apart on 
the spectre of an old mare. It seemed to have very far to 
ride ; and there ran after it a wild-looking, half -grown, 
plaiding shade, which was to bring back the mare ; for the 
official ghost to which the mounted goblin was going, 
we understood, was to discourse for ever. The mounted 
goblin, as it passed out of our sight, cried, and said, < it 
would rather be pounded in a mortar than pray for kings : ' 
although there were thousands of them, in the darkness 
round about, talking of the ghost of the Holy Alliance ! At 
this moment, there met the riding spectre another official 
ghost, which contradicting the equestrian, -cried, and said, 
* Give me my glebe, my wine, my oil, and my barley, and 
I will pray for kings and for devils too.' 

" We could not bear this anti-scriptural work. We 
turned away our eyes far to the outer skirts of the valley ; 
where, O strange sight ! wandered absolute Nothing. It was 
the first time we had seen it. Here were the nonentic shades 
of Arcesilaus and Pyrrho, and the book of Pyrrhonism, less 
than vanity. And here, too, did we observe, although with 



184 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

great difficulty, the idea of David Hume's ghost continually 
* changing from nothing to nothing/ 

" The idea of nothing was very curious, surely ; but we 
had but little time to look, and we immediately turned our 
eyes into the middle of the thickest darkness. Here we now 
saw many things rushing into 'the vast profundity obscure ' 
■ — things not to be understood by mortals. Among the first 
went, muffled safely up in its cloak, Liberty and Necessity ; 
and Edwards, the clear Edwards ! went with it. And we 
thought we heard the American ghost say, ' All those who 
pretend to understand my work on Liberty and Necessity, 
which I never understood myself, shall follow me hither.' 
Something rushed in after, like the essence of spirit and 
matter ; and something in a very curious shape, calling itself 
Communication -between -mind -and -body, sprung into the 
deep darkness. Many, many more things came and disap- 
peared, which I will not now name; and with them disap- 
peared great multitudes of those ghosts which had talked 
nonsense of them while in the flesh. 

" Most gladly now did we hear Science, with her own 
voice, say to us, ' It is enough.' And while we yet looked, 
Science, awful in her just indignation, frowned on the valley. 
The earth shall not so quake at the Mahometan blast of 
Consternation, as at this moment quaked the valley and its 
gloomy ghosts ; nor shall the earth and all things so pass ' 
away at the blast of Annihilation, as passed away the dark 
goblins from our sight. We turned and looked to Science, 
falling again on our knees, for we stood upright while we 
surveyed the valley of darkness : she smiled upon us, and 
our souls were full of her splendour. Her charms over- 
whelmed us. And she smiled upon us again, and said, ' My 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 185 

young sons, be followers of me. Love the truth and ye shall 
find it ; and I will give you a seat among those whom I honour. 
Behold I have told you/ She said, expanded her celestial 
wings, took Newton by the hand, and with all her glorious 
retinue soared on high : and as they ascended out of our 
sight, we heard the immortal band playing on their harps. 

" Suddenly the roof, ' on golden hinges moving,' came 
again upon the house. We rose from our knees ; and we 
waited not to talk with the flesh and blood that were about 
us. Our great pious Principal, professors, and judges, wished 
us well : and we were sent forth into the world with a great 
deal of knowledge, as thou seest, O friend ! and, like the 
true disciples of old, we were sent forth with neither gold, 
nor silver, nor brass in our purses. 

" And now, O Robert ! if thou wishest to see all this, and 
ten thousand times more — for I have mentioned but little of 
what I saw — thou must be able to profess the following 
great profession. These, then, are the things : Three books 
of Livy, any three you please ; two books of Virgil's 
'iEneid;' two books of the 'Odes' of Horace; the four 
Evangelists, comprising about the half of the New Testa- 
ment, in Greek ; three books of Homer's ' Iliad,' any three 
you please ; logic, moral philosophy, natural philosophy, and 
mathematics : Mr will prescribe the place and the por- 
tion of the last. Put on these things, then ; and take money 
and provision for the way — whatever thou forgettest, forget 
not the money — and go by the way to Glasgow college; 
and ere thou returnest thou shalt be crowned A.M. 

" Now, Robert Pollok, write soon. 

« R. Pollok." 



Q 



186 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

These two letters, it will be noticed, are interesting mainly 
on one account — as giving the first indication of " The 
Course of Time." Up to them, we see no intimation of it — no 
opening of mind towards it — nothing to suggest it. But, on 
coming to the reflections on the " Golgotha" in the first 
letter, we perceive the archetype of the Resurrection scene 
in " The Course of Time ;" and, on reading the second let- 
ter, especially from the place where Science is represented 
as taking her seat high on a mountain of crystal, though we 
have no intimation of the poem itself, we discern mental qua- 
lities developing themselves for the conception and execution 
of such a work — we there discover tendencies to go up to 
some goodly eminence, to strip men and things of all that is 
adventitious, and to survey and describe them as they are, 
not as they seem. 

Soon after writing these two letters, he wrote extempo- 
raneously and hurriedly a short address for a Bible society ; 
and it is here subjoined, as strongly expressive of his abhor- 
rence of slavery, and of his confidence in the gospel as the 
means, and the only means, of destroying it : — 

" No one, I imagine, is ignorant of the present great extent 
of the slave trade ; and no one, surely, is unacquainted with 
the wretchedness attendant on slavery. Parliaments have 
assembled, kings and nobles have consulted, votes have been 
given, and our ears have been soothed with the rapturous 
sound — An abolition of the slave trade ! But this sound 
has never yet wandered to the pillaged shores of Africa ; the 
Niger and the Senegal have never murmured to its dulcet 
cadence ; the heart of the fettered West Indian has never 
leaped at its approach. At this very moment, many of the 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 187 

sons of Europe are prowling on the shores of Africa. And 
although all Europe has lifted up its voice against slavery, 
yet it either winks at those who carry it on, or is, at most, 
slack in the punishment of them. Thus, while we are pleased 
to hear slavery talked of as a thing that was, it is still walk- 
ing on the earth in all its terrible, devouring, infernal defor- 
mity and rage. 

" Is there any one hearing me whose sympathies wish to 
keep company with a parent in distress ? Let such a one 
look to the mother on Afric's coast. How does her heart 
tremble within her when a European sail rises on her view ! 
how does she faint away at the voice of a stranger ! She 
sees the hell-faced slave-dealer, more horrible than the lion 
or crocodile, making towards her abode. Her sons and her 
daughters cluster round about her, and call her mother ; but 
her arm is weak ; the agony of her countenance is unnoticed ; 
the voice of her prayer is unheard. The hell-commissioned 
slave-dealer, relentless as Abaddon himself, tears her chil- 
dren from her bosom, casts them into chains, and drives them 
away. And how, think ye, will she cast a last mother's look 
on their dear faces ! with what feelings, think ye, will her 
eye follow their departure ! and when she stands on the 
dreary shore, gazing on the sail that is dragging her children 
to a land of suffering and murder — gazing on it till its last 
quiver escapes from her eye — O, who can tell her agonies ! — 
how will all their fond endearments rush upon her mind S 
how will their everlasting loss break in upon her soul I Ye 
that are parents will ye sleep over this ? 

" I have kept your attention away from the feelings of the 
children: look and see ! — from their eyes gush the streams ot 



188 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

bitterest sorrow — from their lips is heard the loudest wail of 
injured nature! 

" In the same ship, huddled together with bars of iron, 
may often be found the father, torn from his wife and chil- 
dren, the sister from the brother, the friend from the bosom of 
the friend, the lover from the arms of his mistress, for whom 
alone he wishes to live. In short, to load one vessel with 
slaves, all the strongest, tenderest chords of nature are burst 
asunder. And when these unhappy mortals are dragged 
forth to the prison-islands, what is their lot ? I will not 
enter upon it : my heart weeps for humanity ; my soul 
runs back, and trembles within me : the shoulder, galled 
with the everlasting burden, the sweat -furrowed cheek, 
the sun -vexed worn-out look, gather up before my eye ; 
the clanking of chains comes on my ears ; the never-ceas- 
ing lash mingles its deep-cutting sound ; the last groan of 
a brother, perishing under the hand of a brother, lingers 
horribly on the wind ; and the accursed look of the task- 
master — oh ! who can bear it ? 

" I bring not this picture before you to draw from you a 
tear or two, to make you fetch a sigh or two, or utter a word 
of commiseration or two ; but to tell you that something 
further must be done, if you would send slavery to the bot- 
tomless pit. Tears and sighs and words of pity are very 
humane things ; but as far as they regard a mother on the 
shores of Africa, or a chain-laden mortal in the islands of 
slavery, who can neither see nor hear them, they may be said, 
like Job's friends, to be ' miserable comforters.' God had 
compassion on Adam when he fell ; but compassion was not all : 
he came down from the palace of Eternity, and the voice of his 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 189 

everlasting mercy was heard in the garden, saying, that the 
seed of the woman should bruise the head of the serpent ; and 
6 when the fulness of the time was come,' God, the Son, left 
the right hand of glory, and came forth, girded as a servant, 
to guide us on to the feast of immortality. Weep, then, over 
slavery ; but labour while you weep. Nothing but sending 
the Bible and the Gospel to Africa will ever deliver its sons 
from bondage. Christians may weep, and parliaments may 
enact ; but their weepings and their enactments will never de- 
stroy this Mammon of unrighteousness. Let the vigorous and 
life-giving spirit of the Bible once enter their hearts, and the 
sable sons of Africa will soon be stronger than their oppres- 
sors. And at the last day whether, think ye, it will be better 
to have it to tell how much money ye hoarded, how many 
festivals ye sat down at, how many hours of careless indul- 
gence you enjoyed ; or to tell that ye had been instrumental 
in breaking an arm of oppression — in plucking out an eye 
from the devil -like front of slavery ? This will find no accept- 
ance for you with the judge ; but it is a thing that will 
at least tell well at the last tribunal." 



190 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 



CHAPTER VII. 

On the union, in 1820, between the two great bodies of 
Seceders in Scotland, Robert connected himself with the 
United Secession congregation in Eaglesham, then under the 
ministry of the Rev. James Dickson ; and it was in the 
Secession church there, in the beginning of July that year, as 
near as can be ascertained, that he first observed the comme- 
morative ordinance of the Lord's Supper. 

Early in the same month, he passed, along with me and 
another fellow-student,* the usual examination by the United 
Associate Presbytery of Glasgow for admission into the Divi- 
nity Hall of the United Secession Church ; and, in the 
beginning of August, we entered on the study of theology 
there, under the professorship of the celebrated Dr Dick. 

The Hall opened annually on the first Wednesday of 
August, and closed about the middle of October. The 
prescribed course of attendance was five sessions ; and the 
principal duties required of the students there, besides at- 
tending the professor's lectures, were reading the Scrip- 
tures in the original, and delivering, each, one short dis- 
course during the session. In the interval or vacation 
between the closing and opening of the Hall, each student 

* Mr William Steven, now minister of the United Secession congrega- 
tion, Largs. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 191 

attending it was required to place himself under the inspec- 
tion of some Presbytery of the United Secession church, and 
deliver to that Presbytery one discourse, and perform such 
other exercises as it might prescribe. 

Such was the course of study on which Robert entered 
in the beginning of August 1822, towards the end of his 
twenty-fourth year. His entrance into the Hall was un- 
noticed; but his reception there, on delivering his first 
discourse, was altogether extraordinary — unprecedented, 
perhaps, in the history of halls of theology. The dis- 
course, according to prescribed custom, was a homily, 
and the text was these words in Rom. v. 19, " By one 
man's disobedience many were made sinners." While he 
read the text, and delivered the introduction and the first 
two heads, few of the students seemed to pay any attention 
to him. But when he came to the second paragraph in the 
third and last head, which was to show the effects of Adam's 
first disobedience on the rest of mankind, his language began 
to rise a little above the common level of prose ; and, at the 
first poetical expression, several of the students of the fourth 
and fifth sessions exchanged looks with one another, and 
smiled contemptuously. As he proceeded in the delivery, he 
mentioned, in illustration, the names of various animals and 
of several inanimate agents and objects of nature. On the 
mention of these names, the whole of the students fixed their 
eyes on him ; and, with the exception of those of the first session, 
and a few others who were his personal friends or intimate ac- 
quaintances, broke out from disdainful smiles into audible 
laughter, so that at times he could scarcely be heard ; but he 
went on cool and collected, with his usual self-possession* 
keeping close to his notes, amid repeated bursts of laughter, 



192 THE LIFE OF EOBERT POLLOK. 

during the delivery of five full pages, or about the fifth part of 
his discourse. Here, as he was going on, with characteristic 
self-command, showing negatively "the effects of Adam's 
disobedience," or enumerating a series of things which, 
" had Adam not disobeyed — had sin not entered our world," 
would not have taken place, having come to some things 
which might be applied to the present manifestation of the 
students, he stood boldly and determinately forward to make 
himself be heard, and pronounced with awful firmness, in due 
course of delivery, these words — raising his chest over the 
pulpit, clenching his fist, fetching a stroke with his arm, and 
casting down on the students a look of righteous indigna- 
tion, as he pronounced them : — " Had sin not entered our 
world, no idiot-smile would have gathered on the face of 
folly to put out of countenance the man of worth.'' These 
words, together with the tone, attitude, gesture, and look, 
that accompanied them, instantly silenced the laughter, and 
brought the heads of the students who were laughing simul- 
taneously to the benches ; while he paused a moment, and stood 
looking down on them with calm, collected defiance, as much 
as to say, " laugh now if you dare or can." From this to 
the end of the discourse, which was six pages, he seemed to 
be listened to with solemn overawed attention ; and he came 
down from the pulpit, repeating with a good-natured smile, 
as the last words of his discourse, what Milton represents 
Adam, in " lamenting loud" the effects of his disobedience, 
as saying in the language of desponding irony — 

" Fair patrimony 
That I must leave ye sons ! " 

When Robert sat down, the venerable Professor, who had 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 193 

maintained, during the whole excitement, a dignified and 
monitory gravity, calmly said to the students, " Have you any 
remarks, gentlemen, to make on this discourse ?" Scarcely had 
he repeated these words, when five or six students rose at once 
for that purpose ; and one of them, who reckoned himself 
the oracle of the Hall, instantly made all the rest give way, 
by furiously enunciating the following words : — " There 
never was such a piece of absurd bombast nonsense de- 
livered to any audience ! " After that he went on, at great 
length, in a similar strain; and when he stopped, the other 
students who had been up before, rose again, one after 
another, and made remarks much to the same effect as to 
matter, but with less extravagance of manner and expres- 
sion. 

When these students, who were called emphatically "the 
critics of the Hall," had denounced the discourse, divested 
the preacher of talent, and destined him to oblivion, the 
Professor himself began to criticise it with his usual calm- 
ness and dignity ; and the substance of his criticism, as nearly 
as possible in his own words, was as follows : — " He approved, 
he said, of the discourse. The introduction, being textual, 
was appropriate ; the division was proper ; and the dis- 
cussion and illustration on the first two heads were what 
they should have been. With respect to the third head, 
some things said under it might have been as well spared. 
It showed, however, that Mr Pollok possesses a good deal of 
poetical talent ; but he would recommend him to use it more 
sparingly in sermons. With these remarks, he approved of 
the discourse." 

This criticism, from a man so clear in judgment, so judi- 

R 



194 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

cious as a critic, and so impartial as a judge, secured Robert's 
continuance at the Hall ; which, but for it, would have been 
problematical. 

With regard to the recommendation of the Professor, in 
the criticism of his discourse, " to use " his poetical talent 
" more sparingly in sermons," he thought it judicious ; and, 
as may be stated here, he acted on it, in all his subsequent 
discourses for the Hall, with so much success, that he went 
through it without being suspected, or, at any rate, without 
being accused, of poetry. " To use sparingly," or not to use 
at all, " in sermons," or in any other prose composition, 
what poetical talent he possessed, was at all times easy for 
him, both from the character of his mind, and from his long 
training to severe thinking, close abstract reasoning, and 
definite philosophical writing. 

The powers of his mind were originally equal, and were 
long equally cultivated and exercised ; they were developed 
equally, and were equally at his command ; so that it would 
have been impossible to say which of them predominated. 
Of any two of his mental powers, even the most dissimilar in 
their nature and functions — say, for instance, his reason and 
imagination — it could not be said which he possessed in a 
higher degree, or which he could the more readily or the 
more efficiently exercise ; and his mind, like his body, origi- 
nally well-proportioned, or, as it is commonly expressed, well- 
balanced, was disciplined alike to definite philosophical dis- 
cussion and natural poetic description— to close consecutive 
reasoning as well as to creative coherent imagining — to argu- 
mentative as well as imaginative composition — to the ideas 
and language of philosophy as well as to the ideas and Ian- 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 195 

guage of poetry. In writing prose, he could at pleasure 
suppress, or leave unexercised, his poetical talent, and write 
so as not to let it appear that he possessed any such power » 
and again bring it into operation, and continue to exercise it 
as long as he thought proper. In a word, he could, at any 
time, pass with ease from the unpoetic style to the poetic ; 
and return with the same ease from the latter to the for- 
mer ; or combine them together in the same composition. 

In corroboration of what has been just said respecting his 
mental powers, I shall here insert the following letter from 
my friend, Mr Williamson, preacher of the gospel in the 
United Secession church : — 

" Mr David Pollok, Moorhouse, Eaglesham. 

" Paisley, Jan. 8th, 1840. 
" My Dear Sir — I write, at last, to furnish you with a state- 
ment of the substance of a conversation between your brother 
Robert and myself, in which he was led to give forth a cer- 
tain declaration respecting his experience in the exercise of 
his mental powers. 

" The conversation took place while your brother was 
attending the Hall, as we walked one day from Glasgow to 
Paisley. The serenity of the day allowed us to linger upon 
the road, and thus furnished us with an opportunity of deli- 
berate converse upon a variety of subjects. The first parti- 
cular, in my recollection, to which the conversation pointed, 
was diversity of style in writing. And it was in connexion 
with observations upon this subject that your brother came 
out with a declaration of his own experience in reference to 
style. It was commonly said of authors, was the strain of 
your brother's observations, that one wrote in a poetical and 



196 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

another in a reasoning style, and that each had a manner of 
composition peculiar to himself : and it was not to be doubted 
that the works of different writers were marked by different 
characteristics ; but, for himself, he affirmed it as his expe- 
rience, that he possessed the ability of writing in any style — 
that, for example, he could single out the judgment, and, 
addressing himself to a topic suitable to that faculty, he could 
so confine himself to simple processes of reasoning, as to 
produce a composition devoid of all poetical ornament ; and 
thus present a specimen of what might be called the reason- 
ing style. Or he could call forth the imagination, and, 
rising high into the regions of fancy, he could furnish a com- 
position so full of rhetorical figures and poetical embellish- 
ments, that it might be said to be purely in the poetical style. 
" Having thus declared his own ability to write in any 
style, and having followed up his declaration with a few illus- 
trations, he then passed to a general statement of his view of 
the constitution of the human mind. Here, while he seemed 
to point to his peculiar view as in harmony with his own 
experience in reference to styles, he gave forth as his opi- 
nion, in opposition to phrenologists and metaphysicians 
generally, that the human mind was to be regarded, not as a 
congeries of faculties, each of which was suited to its parti- 
cular objects, but as a simple substance, which possessed the 
capacity of putting itself into a thousand different attitudes 
of effort, suitable to the nature of the objects upon which it 
exerted itself. And this he illustrated by the statement of a 
few instances. When, for example, a man performed a pro- 
cess of reasoning, he showed that the mind arrived at the 
conclusion, not through the medium of a separate faculty, 
viewed as one of its particular developments, but that, con- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 197 

templated as an undivided whole, it came into action in the 
accomplishment of the process. And as in the instance of a 
process of reasoning, so in every instance of mental effort, 
universally, the bearing of his illustration was, that the mind 
did not work through a plurality of distinct and separate 
powers, but that it operated in the whole of its essence as an 
undivided unit in every particular exertion of its energies. 

" Your brother's affirmation, then, was to the effect, that 
he possessed the ability of writing in a variety of styles. By 
this, taken in connexion with his own illustrations, he evi- 
dently meant, generally, that his mental powers were so 
equally balanced, that he could exert them all with the same 
degree of vigour ; and that, accordingly, his manner of com- 
position varied with his subject, and the faculty or faculties 
of mind brought to bear upon its discussion. Your brother's 
declaration, therefore, that he could write in a variety of 
styles, amounted substantially to a declaration of the general 
equality of his mental powers. 

" The statement which I have given, embodies the whole 
amount of the information which I am able to furnish respect- 
ing your brother's declaration in reference to the equality of 
his mental powers ; and you may receive it with perfect con- 
fidence in its accuracy. I am happy that I have been the 
means of enabling you to record your brother's declared ex- 
perience respecting his own mental powers ; for it must be 
gratifying to you that you can point the public to the judg- 
ment which he himself had formed of his own mental con- 
stitution, not only because it may be regarded as a fact 
interesting in itself, but chiefly because the fact will meet 
with a response from the experience of all who were admitted 
to his friendship, and who enjoyed opportunities of studying 



198 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

his mind in all its varied manifestations. For myself, I feel 
that, in reflection upon your brother's mental manifestations 
generally, I can cordially respond to the correctness of the 
declaration of his own experience. And, while you may con- 
fidently appeal to all his intimate friends in corroboration 
of its truth, you might refer, in some instances, to his 
compositions ; and you might point, in particular, to his first 
discourse delivered in the Hall, in which judgment and ima- 
gination evidently display themselves with an equality of 
force ; for, as its former part affords a specimen of simple 
reasoning without an ornament, so its latter part exhibits a 
specimen of all that is brilliant in poetical embellishment. — I 
am, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

" William Williamson." 

From the close of the Hall, in October, at the end of his 
first session, till he finished his course of theological study 
there, he had only two discourses a-year to prepare ; so that 
his time was more at his own disposal, and his studies were 
more under his own direction. It will be seen in the pro- 
gress of the narrative how he disposed of the one and directed 
the other. 

Wherever he was, whether at Moorhouse, where he lived 
in summer, or in Glasgow, where he generally passed the 
winter, he continued to study hard. His observation became 
closer and closer ; his thinking more profound ; and his 
reading more general, embracing almost every species of 
literature, ephemeral, historical, and theological. Philosophy 
and metaphysics of every school, and poetry of every descrip- 
tion, attracted his attention ; and his writing became more 
and more extended, and of greater account. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 199 

Poetry, however, was, and had long* been, his favourite 
study ; and he prosecuted a critical survey of the standard 
poets of Europe, but especially those of Britain, to know 
what they had written ; to distinguish their characteristics ; 
ascertain their relative merits ; and determine how they 
accomplished their end, or, as himself expressed it to me, 
" how they produced the effect which they produced.'' 

To aid him in the prosecution of this survey, which he had 
begun some time before he left college, he read, among other 
books, Campbell's masterly work on " The British Poets ;'' 
and in doing so, he wrote, as appears from one of his note- 
books, what he calls there, making a word for the occasion, 
a " Centurial Chronology of the British Poets," extending to 
twenty octavo pages. 

From facts derived partly from this work, he had also begun, 
during the survey, a brief account of the fate of some of the 
poets ; but has not proceeded far with it. What he has 
written of it is very affecting, and may be inserted here as 
expressive of his interest in them : — 

" The British Poets. 

" Chaucer passed part of his life in a dungeon. Lydgate's 
needy complainings to Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, are 
loud and continuous. Many of the days of James I. of 
Scotland were moaned away in a prison ; and, in the forty- 
fourth year of his age, he was cruelly assassinated. Robert 
Henryson wearied out a life of labour, obscurity, and penury. 
Sir David Lyndsay was banished from court. The Tower 
held in durance the body of Sir Thomas Wyatt ; and too 
much zeal, at last, gave him an untimely victim to fever and 
death. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, proved the loath- 



200 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

someness of a prison-house ; and, in the flower of his age, 
was beheaded on Tower Hill. Want was the general 
attendant of Robert Greene ; and he died from a surfeit 
occasioned by pickled herrings and Rhenish wine. Chris- 
topher Marlowe lived in profligacy, and at length had his 
own sword forced upon him in a quarrel at a brothel : many 
of his works were afterwards publicly burned. Robert 
Southwell was dragged before councils and judges ; was 
cast into a dungeon, where he groaned away many years ; 
underwent the excruciating tortures of the rack ten times ; 
at the King's Bench was condemned to die ; and was exe- 
cuted at Tyburn. Spenser, the fascinating Spenser, died 
between want and a broken heart. Downe struggled long 
with resentful feelings and pecuniary difficulties ; and was 
not unacquainted with the prison-house. Ben Jonson, the 
correct, the learned, the infinitely humorous Ben Jonson, 
fought with poverty in his youth, and was imprisoned for 
murder ; delighted his age in the days of his active man- 
hood ; and, in the decline of life, exerted himself under the 
languor of disease, wrung out the dregs of his genius, and 
bent down a haughty spirit to the humility of begging, that 
he might not meet death on the keen edge of want." 

While he was prosecuting this survey, the following cha- 
racteristic incident, strongly expressive of his decided pre- 
ference of his great favourite poet, Milton, took place : — 
Early one spring morning, when I was lying awake in bed 
at Moorhouse, Robert, who had been up for some time, sit- 
ting in the same room reading Milton's " Paradise Lost," 
walked slowly and erectly by the bed-side, with the book in 
his hand closed on his finger, and striking it on his thigh, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 201 

as his custom was, said emphatically, " No, no, there's none 
of them like Milton — none of them like Milton ! " 

Since we are alluding- to Milton, it may be mentioned as 
a curious, if not an illustrative incident, that during the 
same period Robert dreamed that he had a conversation with 
him, of which he once gave me the following account : 
" I had," he said, " a conversation with Milton in a dream, 
We talked of his works. He seemed quite conscious of his 
own greatness, and quite sensible of their superiority. He 
spoke of them, and expressed his opinion of them freely and 
dignifiedly, and showed no false modesty, or, to use an em- 
phatic expression of your own, he displayed no < ostentatious 
humility.' At length I said to him, ' What do you think of 
Comus ? ' — < Comus ! ' he exclaimed, apparently having for- 
gotten that he had written it, < What Comus ? ' — « The 
Mask,' I replied ; 'is it not a well-done work ? ' — ' Yes,' he 
said, recollecting it, ' it is a finished piece.' Here I was 
so much affected with his presence, and so much impressed 
with the coincidence of his opinion with my own, that 
I awoke. So you see," he added, what he used sometimes 
afterwards to say to his companions in joke, " I have Mil- 
ton's own authority for saying of his Comus, ' It is a finished 
piece.' " 

Speaking to me of the early part of this period some time 
afterwards, he said, he then contemplated man, religion, 
philosophy, and poetry, in relation to one another ; and 
meant one day to marry them in verse, but could not yet 
find a theme to unite them. He was treasuring up, however, 
and had long been treasuring up, in the recesses of his 
mind, sometimes sensibly and sometimes insensibly, mate- 
rials for writing something, he then knew not what; but 



202 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

materials which were, at last, to be turned to some ac- 
count. 

It was in the beginning of the summer of 1823 that he 
wrote " Helen of the Glen." This tale consisted, in the first 
edition, of a hundred and forty pages, small octavo ; and 
some idea of his practice and facility in composition may be 
formed from the time that he took to write it, and from the 
corrections that were made on it afterwards, as the first 
edition passed through the press. He left me in Glasgow 
one Saturday afternoon to go out to Moorhouse, talking 
of writing something for money, though he had not then, he 
said, thought of a subject; and on my arrival there, the fol- 
lowing Saturday afternoon, he showed me the manuscript 
of " Helen of the Glen," which he had just finished. In 
speaking of it some time after, he said to me, he contrived 
the story, and planned and wrote it that week, between 
Monday morning and Saturday night ; adding, that he spent 
the greater part of the week at North Moorhouse, talking 
to his cousins, to relax his mind in the intervals of writing 
The tale was never transcribed ; and as will be seen after- 
wards, from one of his letters, was published with few cor- 
rections, or " emendations " as he calls them. 

In the end of June the same summer, he went out on 
duty eight days, for his brother John, in the Renfrewshire 
yeomanry cavalry, which met at Paisley. One of his early 
school-fellows, James Mather, Esq., who was along with 
him in the troop, and was billeted with him, says, " He was 
an excellent horseman, kept his place well in the ranks, and 
went through the sword-exercise with great dexterity." He 
is pleased to add, that he was one of the most agreeable 
companions that ever he was with. He also relates, that 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 203 

as the family in which they were quartered happened to keep 
a sort of monastic distance from them, he observed that they 
were not treated there as he used to be when on billet, and 
Robert said, " We are treated just as soldiers should be 
treated, and we will get on quite happily." 

Soon after the close of the Hall, at the end of his first 
session, he received from the Presbytery of Glasgow a text 
for a homily ; and, in the course of the vacation, he wrote a 
discourse on it. The text was 2 Cor. ix. 15, " Thanks be 
unto God for his unspeakable gift." On the back of the 
manuscript of this discourse, he has written the following 
stanza : 

" But they who were ever the fondest to meet, 
Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed ; 
And the heart that has slumbered in friendship's seat, 
Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived." 

In the beginning of August he returned to the Hall to 
prosecute his theological studies ; and his discourse, this 
session, was a lecture on Rom. ii. 25 — 29. During its 
course he was one of six students who formed themselves 
into a society, to meet once a- week in one another's lodgings, 
for the discussion of subjects connected with the pulpit. 
The other five were, Mr Robert Pollok, Mr David Marr, 
Mr William Williamson, Mr John Wright, and myself. 
The name of the society was, by mutual consent, composed, 
as a symbol of union, by taking a letter of the surname of 
each member, and putting the six letters together so as to 
make a word : it was called the Polwat Society. To this 
society, at one of its meetings, Robert read an address on 
preaching ; which, being the only thing of the kind from his 



204 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

pen, though very hurriedly composed, may be inserted 
here, as expressive of some of his sentiments on that impor- 
tant subject. It is as follows : — 

" It is my present design, brethren, to show you that 
many of the preachers of the present day are in language 
too barren and in doctrine too argumentative, and draw the 
illustrations of the facts which they state from too narrow 
a field. 

" It would not be easy to give you a criterion by which 
you would, in all instances, know one of the preachers to 
whom I have alluded. He may generally be known, how- 
ever, by the following things : — He will rarely use a phrase 
the least figurative or metaphorical. He will scarcely ever 
venture out into the world of nature for a simile or illustra- 
tion. He will speak of the beauty or grandeur of nature in 
general ; but he will be cautious of naming any particular 
valley, or mountain, or river, or tree, or flower, or animal. 
You will frequently hear him enter upon long reasoning to 
prove the truth of the most plainly stated facts in the Bible ; 
and thus, instead of making the fact itself bear all along on 
the hearts and consciences of his audience, after he has rea- 
soned away the most of his time to prove something the 
reasonableness of which appears to every one at the very 
first sight, or to prove something the only proof of which 
that can be given is — < Thus saith the Lord,' you will see 
him forced to draw at last a few indirect inferences, as the 
only shift that he can try of sending the great truths of 
God home to the hearts of men. If you meet a preacher 
of this kind down in the world, and take the liberty of 
calling his mode of preaching in question, he will tell you 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 205 

that the truths of the gospel need no ornament to set them 
off; that their ornament is their intrinsic value; that em- 
bellishment draws the mind away from the gospel, the thing 
on which alone the mind ought to be fixed ; that to particu- 
larize too much is below the dignity of the pulpit ; that the 
cross of Christ is the only thing in preaching ; and that Paul 
was a great reasoner. 

" Now it is against the class of preachers who preach 
thus in the pulpit, and speak thus in the world, that we ob- 
ject ; and we object to them because they do not thus preach 
and speak always for want of talent, but from principle ; and 
because they press their mode of preaching upon others, as 
the very best. 

" After all that I have said to characterize the mode of 
preaching in question, I know you can have but a very inde- 
finite idea of what I mean by it. You will easily see, however, 
that this want of definiteness about the subject in hand arises 
necessarily from the subject itself. But I trust that, by 
attention to what I am hereafter to say, you will readily 
gather a distincter and more definite idea, both of the mode 
of preaching which I mean to censure, and of the mode which 
I mean to commend. 

" In the outset, then, I would admit the greater part of the 
reasons which the class of preachers above referred to adduce 
in support of their manner of preaching. I believe as much 
as any man does, that the truths of the gospel need no set- 
ting-off ornaments ; but I differ from the preachers in ques- 
tion about the meaning of the term ornament. They deno- 
minate every thing ornament, or at least attempted ornament, 
in speech, that sets off an idea, except in the barest way ; I 
call nothing ornament that gives force to the idea, or leaves 



206 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

it more deeply impressed on the mind. They would say 
abstractly, for instance, that the anger of the Lord is ter- 
rible ; I would say with Job, < The pillars of heaven tremble, 
and are astonished at his reproof.' They call their way of 
speaking plain and natural, Job's figurative and ornamented ; 
I call their way of speaking weak and abstract, Job's parti- 
cular and impressive. No one believes more firmly than 
I do, that the chief ornament of the gospel is its intrinsic 
value. But then, I count the gospel warrantable in pressing 
all nature into its service, and I argue that every part of na- 
ture may be so managed in preaching, that, instead of unset- 
tling the mind, it will fix it more strongly on truth, on holi- 
ness, and on God, No one has a firmer belief than I have, 
that every preacher ought, like Paul, not to know any thing 
in preaching " save Jesus Christ, and him crucified ; " but 
I am of opinion, that to preach the cross of Christ with 
great and general effect, the preacher had better know much 
of nature and art. No one believes more than I do that the 
Holy Spirit can alone give efficacy to preaching ; but then I 
am for using all the means in our power, and seeking the 
operation of the Holy Spirit also. I believe that Paul rea- 
soned much, but he stated more as ultimate facts. 

" Thus, you see, I condemn nothing that these preachers 
do ; but I censure them for something that they do not ; and 
I condemn them for disapproving of the addition which I 
would make to their mode of preaching. And all this I shall 
endeavour to illustrate and justify from the Bible. 

" First I say, that figures and metaphors, simile and alle- 
gory, and all richness of language, are sanctioned by the 
example of the Bible. I shall be very sparing in my quotations ; 
but when I make only one, had I time, I could give hundreds. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 207 

" When Isaiah, the gospel-prophet, tells us of God's care 
of his people in trials, he says, not in the barren, precise, and 
correct language of the preachers to whom we have been 
alluding, that God will support and protect his people in 
every affliction, but he represents the God of Jacob as saying to 
his people, ' When thou passest through the waters, I will 
be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not over- 
flow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt 
not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.' 
The same prophet, when he speaks of the effects of the gos- 
pel, says not, like our barren preachers, that the heathen world 
shall be enlightened, converted, and felicitated by it; but he 
sings in strains worthy of Zion : ' The wilderness and the 
solitary place shall be glad for them ; and the desert shall 
rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, 
and rejoice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon 
shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon — 
in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the 
desert.' Our barren preacher would say that such a city 
shall be destroyed, that such a land shall be laid desolate ; 
Isaiah says, ' Tremble, ye women that are at ease ; be trou- 
bled, ye careless ones ; strip you, and make you bare, and 
gird sackcloth upon your loins. They shall lament for 
the teats, for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine. Upon 
the land of my people shall come up thorns and briers ; yea, 
upon all the houses of joy in the joyous city : because the 
palaces shall be forsaken ; the multitude of the city shall be 
left ; the forts and towers shall be for dens for ever, a joy of 
wild asses, a pasture of flocks.' 

" We find Jesus Christ making frequent use of the objects 
of nature to illustrate his doctrines. Every one remembers 



208 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

that beautiful passage beginning with, * I am the true vine, 
and my father is the husbandman.' 

" Every part of the Bible abounds with comparisons. 
< The wicked spring as the grass ; the righteous shall flour- 
ish like the palm-tree ; he shall grow like a cedar in 
Lebanon. My heart is smitten, and withered like grass. I 
am like a pelican of the wilderness : I am like an owl of the 
desert. I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house- 
top/ 

" Our barren preachers, zealous for the dignity of the 
pulpit, are afraid to single out any object in nature. Our 
Saviour knew well the dignity of the pulpit, but he knew 
also, that the objects of nature were pure, and would not 
defile it. Hear him, in his heavenly eloquence, saying to 
his disciples, ' Behold the fowls of the air : for they sow 
not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet 
your heavenly Father feedeth them. And why take ye 
thought for raiment ? Consider the lilies of the field, how 
they grow : they toil not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say 
unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not 
arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the 
grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast 
into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of 
little faith?' And again in that pathetic lament, the most 
pathetic that ever lips uttered, when his soft eye melted over 
the great metropolis of his native land : ' O Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem, that killest the prophets, and stonest them that 
are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy 
children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens 
under her wings, and ye would not I ' 

"Allegorical speaking is frequent in the Bible. I have 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 209 

not time to quote ; but of this way of writing 1 , that psalm, * 
where the church is spoken of as a vine and her enemies as 
wild beasts, and also the twenty-third chapter of Ezekiel 
and fifth of Isaiah, are memorable examples. 

" Of particular writing, almost the whole Bible is an 
example. From the time that the voice of the Lord God 
was heard in the garden, saying, < Because thou hast done 
this,' naming what had been done, till John, scarcely a single 
prophet or apostle reproves the people without ' degrading 
the pulpit/ as our barren preachers would call it, by drag- 
ging into the view of that people the particular sins which 
they had been guilty of. Take an example from the third 
chapter of Isaiah, beginning at the 13th verse. And when 
we come to the sermons of Jesus Christ, of him who ' knew 
what was in man,' who knew the shortest and the easiest road 
to the human heart, we have every where the fittest examples of 
particular preaching. He well knew that truths abstractly 
stated, however important in themselves, leave little impres- 
sion on the human mind. When he accuses the Pharisees, 
he therefore tells them that they make broad their phylac- 
teries, that they love the uppermost seats in the synagogues, 
and greetings in the market. He tells Jerusalem that it 
killed the prophets. Every sermon of his is full of parables. 
The tares and the wheat, the planting of the vineyard, Dives 
and Lazarus, are familiar instances. In short, I may say 
that our Saviour scarcely ever stated a doctrine without a 
particular illustration ; and every one knows how well cal- 
culated the illustrations of our Saviour are to arrest the 
attention, and make a strong impression on the mind. The 

* Psalm lxxx. 



210 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

single story of Dives and Lazarus, gives us a more complete 
and a more striking view of the general state of the wicked 
and the righteous in this world, and of the awful and ever- 
lasting punishment of the one, and the everlasting felicity of 
the other, in the world to come, than whole volumes ab- 
stractly and generally written on the subject could do. 

" The objects of nature are certainly well calculated to 
raise devotion within us. And while the royal poet of 
Israel sings in the warmest and most enraptured lays of the 
mercy of God through Jesus Christ, he forgets not to string 
his harp, and gather into the melody of his song the works 
of nature ; and from these he often takes occasion to bless 
and magnify his God. In many psalms almost all the pro- 
minent objects in nature are named as instances of the 
goodness or greatness of God. The cedar of Lebanon — 
the dew of Carmel — even the stork and the conies are not 
missed. Part of the sixty-fifth and of the hundred and forty- 
eighth Psalm I shall read. Psalm lxv. 5 — 13. Psalm cxlviii. 
1—10. 

" The prophet John is not afraid, in his description of 
heaven itself, to liken its objects to pure objects of nature. 
Revelation, xxii. 1 — 5 

" That you may the more fully see what I mean by a 
barren preacher, I shall shortly state his way of speaking of 
the attributes of God, together with the manner in which 
the Bible gives us an idea of these attributes. 

" The barren preacher says in his concise and neat 
language, ' God is eternal.' The Bible says, * Before the 
mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed 
the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlast- 
ing, thou art God — and, thy years shall have no end/ The 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 211 

barren preacher says, < God is unchangeable.' The Bible 
says, ' I am the Lord, I change not — the Father of lights, 
with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning/ 
Our concise- styled men say, ' God is omniscient.' The Bible 
says, ' The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding 
the evil and the good. I am God — declaring the end from 
the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are 
not yet done. Who hath measured the waters in the hollow 
of his hand, and meted out heaven with a span, and com- 
prehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the 
mountains in scales and the hills in a balance ? Who hath 
directed the Spirit of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, hath 
taught him ? With whom took he counsel, and who instructed 
him, and taught him in the path of judgment, and taught him 
knowledge, and showed to him the way of understanding ?' 
The neat sermon-maker says, ' God is omnipotent.' The Bible 
says, ' All nations before him are as nothing. Behold, the 
nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the 
small dust of the balance : behold, he taketh up the isles as 
a very little thing. It is he that sitteth upon the circle of 
the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grashoppers ; 
that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth 
them out as a tent to dwell in. He says to the sea, Hitherto 
shalt thou come, but no further ; and here shall thy proud 
waves be stayed. The lightnings say unto him, Here we 
are. — He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands 
fast.' The barren preacher says that * God is faithful — he 
will do all that he has said.' The Bible says, i God is not a 
man, that he should lie ; neither the son of man, that he 
should repent : hath he said, and shall he not do it ? or hath 
he spoken, and shall he not make it good?' The plain 



212 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

divisional preacher says, that our Saviour is infinitely mer- 
ciful and kind. But thus we hear of him in Isaiah: * He 
shall feed his flock like a shepherd; he shall gather the 
lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom ; he shall 
gently lead those that are with young. A bruised reed shall 
he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench. The 
Spirit of the Lord God is upon me ; because the Lord hath 
anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek : he hath 
sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty 
to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those that 
are bound; to comfort all that mourn.' The barren preacher 
says, that all who trust in God shall have sufficient support 
and protection from him. The Psalmist says, ' How excel- 
lent is thy loving-kindness, O God ! therefore the children 
of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They 
shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house ; 
and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasure.' 
See also Psalm xci. The first, second, and third-place 
preachers say, that God is terrible in his wrath. The Bible 
says, ' He removeth the mountains, and they know not ; he 
overturneth them in his anger : he shaketh the earth out of 
her place, and the pillars thereof tremble.' 

These are sufficient to show you what I mean : and it 
would be an insult to your sense to ask you which of the 
ways of speaking of God's attributes gives the brightest idea 
of them. I could easily show how the Bible method must 
make the stronger impression; but it would be needless in 
such a society as this to take up time with the solution of so 
plain a philosophical question. 

" I shall take another opportunity of saying what I have to say 
of the argumentative preacher ; and shall, therefore, conclude 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 213 

this very imperfect address with, a general observation or 
two. 

" The mind, that has once been fully convinced of the 
truths of the gospel, will be pleased with the barest and most 
formal way of stating these truths ; but many in every nume- 
rous audience, we fear, are not Christians. Much should, 
therefore, be done to engage their attention : and even the 
Christian himself, like David, will delight in taking occasion 
to praise his God from the works of creation, as well as from 
those of providence and redemption. 

" Every preacher ought, as much as possible, to bring into 
the service of the gospel the arts and sciences. They may 
be often well managed for illustrating the Bible. As the 
obvious appearances of nature, however, are best known, and 
consequently best fitted for general service ; and as they are 
so unfeelingly and stupidly neglected by the barren preacher ? 
it is to them that we have chiefly turned your attention at 
this time. 

" And while we would have the preacher to be plain and 
simple in language — always to preach ' Jesus Christ, and him 
crucified ' — never to lose sight of the great atonement, and 
the truths connected with it, we would have him, in imitation 
of the Bible, to bring into the service of the gospel all the 
objects and ministers of nature. We would have him to 
give a tongue to the sun, and the moon, and every star of 
heaven, to speak forth our Saviour's praise. We would have 
him to bring forth the beasts of the forest, and cast them 
down to do homage at the cross of Christ. We would have 
him command the ocean to be silent, and listen to the < still 
small voice' of the gospel. We would have him make the 
four winds messengers of the word of God. We would have 



214 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 



him make the mountain bow down tojhe footsteps of the 
Redeemer, and the valley rise up and m|Jt> his goings. We 
would have him teach the oak and the plane to spread their 
shelter, and the sweetbrier and hawthorn to breathe their 
incense, in the lowly course of the meek and humble Jesus. 
We would have him teach every flower of the field — the 
violet, the rose, and the lily — to adorn the garden of Geth- 
semane ; make the ravens of heaven bring an offering to the 
Holy One ; and instruct the lark, and the nightingale, and 
every daughter of heavenly song, to lift up, with man, hosan- 
nas to Him who came from the right hand of the Ancient of 
Days, to ' bind up the broken-hearted,' and * to comfort all 
that mourn.' 

" I shall afterwards enquire into the cause why the barren 
mode of preaching is so prevalent." 

In the course of this session, he sold the copyright of 
" Helen of the Glen" to Mr William Collins, bookseller in 
Glasgow, for £15 ; and the Tale, as will be seen immediately, 
was soon after put to press. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 215 



k 



CHAPTER VIII. 

At the close of the Hall in 1823, Robert and I, it is neces- 
sary to apprize the reader, were, for the first time in our life, 
separated to a distance from one another. On the 14th of 
October that year, leaving him in Glasgow, I went to reside 
at Auchindinny, a small village pleasantly situated on the 
banks of the North Esk, in Mid- Lothian, seven miles south 
from Edinburgh ; where, it is proper to add, I continued for 
three years. In a fortnight after my arrival there, I wrote 
to him, expressing my feelings on entering Edinburgh for 
the first time, and describing the scenery around Auchin- 
dinny. Immediately after writing to him, I received the 
following letter in return, which, besides showing some of 
his engagements and designs, gives considerable insight into 
his character, habits, and disposition : — 

« Glasgow, October 28, 1823. 
" Dear Brother — I received your letter about an hour ago. 
How eloquent is the language of a friend! I have read 
accounts upon accounts of Edinburgh and its castle, but 
never till you transfused into me your own feelings at your 
first sight of that ancient place of renown, did I feel the 
slightest approach to that changeful excitation of soul which 
its embattled towers, its hoary age, and its tragi-comic 
history, now stir within me. I am in raptures to see it; 



216 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

and really I never thought seriously and determinately of 
visiting- it, for the very sake of seeing it, till now. You have 
enamoured me of the whole scenery around you, and espe- 
cially of the Esk. May his waters never fail, and may he 
never want a minstrel to awake the harp, responsive to the 
cadence of his wave ! for the description of his uncircum- 
cised ruggedness hath given me a thrill of delight which 
claims dearest gratitude. But I waste time, for you know 
what feelings your description must have awakened in me. 

" To gratify both of us, and I believe both alike, I shall 
come and see you as soon as possible. At present, I am 
engaged with Mr Collins. The correction goes on plea- 
santly. The emendations we make are very trifling, and, I 
may say, always meet my own approbation ; they are indeed 
almost every one of them, made by myself. I esteem Mr 
Collins more, both in talent and manners, the more I am 
acquainted with him. A few hours, and these hours I ex- 
pect of this week, will finish the correction. 

" I had a letter lately from Mr Macintosh,* containing an 
offer of his school at Cupar- Angus, but it is terribly far 
north. Besides I observed, in reading lately Pitscottie's 
< History of Scotland,' that there were cannibals about Angus 
no further back than the reign of James II. ; so I thought it 
was as safe wintering on this side the Tay. But, joking 
aside, I did debate whether or not to take the school. My 
health, my inclination, and an ardent desire to attempt some- 
thing, spoke loudly against it; and so I resolved, after a 
weary, horrible struggle — for I knew I was leaning on a 
reed that had pierced a thousand sides — to trust for bread to 

* One of his fellow-students at the Hall. 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 217 

the exertion of my pen. Success in teaching, at such a place 
as Cupar- Angus, would have been failure. In my present 
purpose I can only fail. ' Man taketh counsel within him ; 
but the Lord ordereth his steps.' 

" I retain my old room, and must be vigorously employed ; 
it is necessary both to my health and happiness. Neverthe- 
less, as soon as I am disengaged with Collins, and have 
chosen and prepared a subject of cogitation — for then I can 
profit in all places and at all times — I shall come and see 
you. All this, I trust, will be very soon. You may depend 
I will make it as soon as I possibly can. I weary to see you. 
The sensations I felt that day you went away were entirely 
new to me. I could have wept, although I scarcely could 
say why. I lost all appetite for dinner, and regained nothing 
like cheerfulness till late in the evening. 

" Your first Ayrshire letter was expedited, and all your 
letters have been sent forward. Our friends are all well. 
The harvest is nearly in at Moorhouse. R. Pollok, farmer, 
was blessing you when I was out, for keeping your promise 
of sending good weather from the east. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" All your orders shall be strictly realized. You must 
write to me in a week after the receipt of this, and write by 
post. Remember I am No. 24. 

" Make yourself as well acquainted as you can with the 
history of those places in your neighbourhood which are 
notable for past transactions, that you may be able to point 
them out when I come." 

In the middle of December, six weeks after writing this 
letter, certainly much later in the season than he intended 

T 



218 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

when he wrote it, he came, along with Mr Marr, and 
saw me at Auchindinny. By that time, he had " chosen and 
prepared" two subjects " of cogitation," namely " Ralph 
Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family;" and to assist his 
cogitation on them, as well as gratify his curiosity, he visited 
during his stay, Roslin and Pennicuick House, Pentland 
Hills, Habbie's Howe, and Rullion Green, all " notable for 
past transactions." 

In visiting the three last places, he and his friend spent 
nearly a whole day. They set out to visit them early in the 
forenoon, and, as they told me on their return in the even- 
ing, they wandered about Habbie's Howe, and up and down 
among the Pentlands, till it was beginning to grow dark, 
when they ascended to the top of Carnethy, the loftiest of 
these classic hills, and stood there, contemplating and wor- 
shipping, till the curtains of night closed around them. On 
descending from it, they held their way under the light of 
the moon, along the foot of the hill, for Rullion Green, and 
soon came down on a shepherd's house, at which they called, 
enquiring for the hallowed field. The shepherd's wife, tell- 
ing them that they were close by it, sent along with them 
one of her children, a girl about ten or eleven years of age, 
to take them to the stone set up on it in memory of the 
martyrs who fell there in the cause of civil and religious 
liberty, in the battle of Pentland Hills, fought in 1666. 
They walked, in silence, back and forward over the green, 
surveying it narrowly ; and went and kneeled down beside 
the Martyr's Stone, and, partly by looking and partly by 
groping, made out the inscription on it ; then slowly and 
silently withdrew. 

As they were going back to the house with their little 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 219 

guide, it may be mentioned as a curious incident which a 
good deal amused them, that they met her mother, in great 
alarm, crying, " Mary ! Mary ! " She had taken it into her 
head that they were doctors, and that they might make away 
with her daughter ; though, when they spoke of it on meet- 
ing her, she seemed rather ashamed of her fears, and wished 
to hide them ; hut on proceeding with her to the house, 
they joked her into a frank confession of them, convinced her 
that they were not doctors, and then, giving the girl some- 
thing for guiding them to the stone, left her composed and 
pleased. 

His visit to these three places, partly from the scenery 
and the season, and partly from novelty, but chiefly from 
association, had a powerful and happy effect on his mind, 
elevating and expanding it with devotion, solemnity, and 
sublimity. It was glorious, he said, on concluding the 
account of it to me at night, while he looked to Mr Marr, 
his voice swelling up, and his eye kindling and glowing with 
enthusiasm as he spoke — it was glorious, truly glorious, after 
wandering the light of day on the soft hallowed bosom of 
the Pentlands, to stand, in the middle of December, on their 
highest top, nearly two thousand feet above the level of the 
sea, holding high converse with God, and hear the spirit of 
the blast drawing the curtains of night around us ; and then 
to come down on the sanctified field of martyrs below, 
surveying it by the shadowy light of the moon, shed 
through the slow passing clouds, and groping, with our 
very hands, the stone inscribed and set up ' for a memorial 
of them!' 

On their way home from Auchindinny, he and Mr Marr 
passed a day and a night in Edinburgh, and he wrote me 



220 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thence the following' letter, giving some account of their 
visiting the metropolis, and showing how they were pleased 
with their excursion to the east : — 

" Edinburgh, December 18, 1823. 
" Dear Brother — Immediately on our arrival at Edinburgh, 
we found Mr Lambie * just as he was going into the theo- 
logical class. His kindness and attention to us have been as 
vigilant as any one could expect from another. He has 
never left us since our arrival here till this moment. We 
have walked, eaten, drunken, and slept with him scot-free. 
Mr Lambie lives at No. 2, Richmond Court, not far from 
college. He sends his compliments to you, and will be 
happy to see you. 

" On Tuesday, we visited the Castle ; the tomb of Fer- 
gusson, erected by Burns ; Parliament Square, in the court 
of which are lawyers innumerable ; Holyrood House, Calton 
Hill, and so on. The Castle, ' veteran hoary in arms ' to 
which Burns likens it, and the view of town, and country, 
and sea, from it, produced a most glorious feeling in our 
souls. No man could define it. But a feeling that can be 
exactly denned is not worth the defining. Holyrood House, 
as a mere building, is nowise very remarkable. But when 
we thought how many of our kings, our Stuarts, unfortunate 
things, had trod its royal courts ; led the dance in its then 
merry halls, brilliant with the lustre of fair eyes, whose 
light has long since set for ever, and whose laugh of love, 
and kindness, and mirthfulness, had passed ere we came thi- 
ther; had cracked their crack, taken their glass, planned 
and prospered, or had been disappointed there ; and espe- 

* Along with whom he took the degree of Master of Arts. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 221 

cially when we considered that all these illustrious kings, 
and all these lovely laughing dames, lay now mouldered into 
dust, we felt — I don't know what we felt — you will feel it 
yourself. 

" On Tuesday night, after eight o'clock, we sallied out to 
scour the narrow lanes, that is, the precipitous infernal pas- 
sages of the Old Town. Two hours and more did we spend 
in scrutinizing these places ; and when we saw or felt their 
steepness and narrowness, the height of the houses, often 
projecting over our heads, their length, the subterraneous 
dwellings which descend from them, their filth, their inhabi- 
tants — young women and young men, destroying and de- 
stroyed — we just exclaimed with the hero in the play — 

' O horrible, horrible, most horrible ! ' 

and so left the whole business to go on as we found it. 

" To-day, we heard Professors Ritchie and Wilson : the 
last, the author, you know, of some famous works, attracted 
me much. We then visited the New Town; and the im- 
pression it produced was exactly the opposite of the Old 
Town. O delightful, delightful, most delightful ! We then 
visited Leith : it is nowise very interesting. 

" The men here are more intelligent-looking — there is 
more learning in the general face of Edinburgh than in 
Glasgow ; and the ladies seem stouter ' rackler hizzies ' than 
those about Glasgow. 

" Upon the whole, we have been highly delighted, and 
therefore highly pleased, with our short and wintry excur- 
sion. Could every week of our life produce as many inter- 
esting ideas and feelings with as few painful and indifferent 
ones, we would smile as we looked away into futurity. 



222 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" To-morrow, we mean to set off for home with the one 
o'clock coach. We leave you our blessing, and pray all hap- 
piness to be with you. 

« R. POLLOK." 

It appears that he deferred writing to me, after his return 
to Glasgow, till the end of January ; when he sent me the 
following letter, which, besides saying something of himself 
and his studies at the time, expresses some of his feelings and 
sentiments in general : — 

" Glasgow, Jan. SO, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — I have been waiting these two weeks for 
the arrival of some things for you from Moorhouse. Some 
letters have arrived, but nothing else. These I send you 
with this. 

" I can send you little interesting news. You will be glad 
to hear, however, that our friends at Moorhouse are all well ; 
and so are those in the west. Young David, your nephew, is 
an extremely pretty child; Robert is famed for his pro- 
found sagacity. 

" I have been in the midst of questions about you, and the 
country around you, since I returned from Auchindinny. I 
am doing little myself. I neither read nor write poetry, for 
the present. Homer, which I read only for the Greek, the 
Greek Testament, French, English history — these I read 
with some avidity. ' Helen' is in the press. You will have 
a copy in a few weeks. 

" I hope you are persevering with pleasure in your studies. 
There is no fear of doing something if we have determined 
to do it. Reading or studying, without reading or studying 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 223 

for some determinate purpose — with some chosen and appro- 
priated end in view — is like one walking in an enchanted laby- 
rinth ; the more he exerts himself, the more is he bewildered 
and perplexed. It is the want of this which has disgusted 
me at every thing, and put me out of humour with myself. 
Avoid this deadly vale, as full of the disappointed hopes and 
once lofty ideas of scholars, as ever the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death was full of the bones of pilgrims. By the by, read 
* The Pilgrim's Progress ; ' it is the funniest and the best 
system of theology I know. You are enthusiastic, I know, 
in your love of oratory ; that is, of composing and speaking 
with glorious effect. Beware of letting it cool. Let your 
mind frequently turn to those objects which have a tendency 
to feed your enthusiasm. Listen not a moment to any thing 
that would advise you from your chosen purpose, and your 
success is secure. 

" Write soon. Have you seen Mr Lambie ? Love to the 
Misses Brown. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" Our brother John is named for an elder of the church. 
I do not know yet whether he will take the birth. I think 
he ought, as it will be another motive to him for walking in 
the paths of righteousness. He is fit enough, you know, for 
the office. 

" If you can get M'Neill's l Scotland's Scaith and W aes of 
War,' besides seeing a fine poem, you will see some touches 
about Roslin Castle, The Banks of Esk, Lasswade, and 
so on. 

" How do the young ladies get on in their * labour of 
love ?' * 

* Superintending a Sabbath school at Auchindinny, 



224 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" I have spent a few nights at Glasgow parties this win- 
ter. They are not better than country-rockings ; and I see 
there is a fearful rivalship among the young ladies. O for 
one night of that light-hearted mirth which we wont to have 
about Greenside, or Moorhouse, in days of yore ! But I 
suppose this prayer will be dissipated in empty air. 

" I had a letter from Mr Pollok, Girvan : he gets on well, 
speaks of studying seriously, and asks very kindly for you. 
I expect your next letter in the course of two weeks at 
longest. " R. P." 

The following letter to me, which makes the next step on- 
ward in his history, and in the illustration of his character, 
while it shows his usual interest in his friends, gives some 
account of his health, together with the state of his mind, 
and mentions the kind of study he was pursuing : — 

" Glasgow, Feb. 11, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — I hope you have received my letter of the 
30th, or thereabout, of last month. The parcels which you 
mentioned in your last letter, were all duly received by me, 
and forwarded to their respective destinations. 

" Our friends at Moorhouse are all well. John, whom I 
saw to day, says he will answer your letter soon. Young John 
still gives proofs of more than ordinary talents ; but I doubt 
there will be no means taken to improve them. He has not 
been able to go to school during winter, and I suppose he 
will be needed at home in summer. But if he learn to read 
and write tolerably, it will perhaps do. I should like very 
well, however, to see his attention turned to learning ; but, 
perhaps, it would make him no happier than it has made me : 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 225 

why then urge him to it ? But 1 am talking nonsense ; no 
one knows what course of life is best for any other. 

" I hope you are quite well. Health is happiness, at least 
I think it so. These pains still continue to hover about me. 
They weary my body and they weary my mind ; and in 
fact, so work, that that force of mind which should be sent 
abroad in the contemplation of natural and moral scenery, is, 
almost at every moment, attracted to the feebleness and 
worthlessness of myself. You are not to think that I am 
worse than at other times, however. I have still the hope 
that I shall get rid of them. Even as I am, I can scarcely 
say that my health is bad. Were my employment any thing 
other than study, perhaps I would scarcely feel any thing 
wrong ; but yet, weary and comfortless as I often am, and 
disappointed as I am at present with myself, I have not yet 
wished, with all my heart, that I had chosen another course. 

" I still continue to read Greek, Latin, French, and Eng- 
lish. This is a miserable letter ; but I shall write as good 
a one as I can the next time, and you know * angels can no 
more.' 

" R. Pollok." 

During this winter, that is, between the end of October and 
the end of February, he wrote "Ralph Gemmell" and " The 
Persecuted Family," the one extending to a hundred and 
fifty-six, and the other to a hundred and seventy-five pages, 
small octavo. 

In the beginning of March he was suddenly taken ill in 
Glasgow ; and to his illness and his recovery from it, the 
four following letters, two of them to his father, and two of 
them to myself, relate almost exclusively : — 



226 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Glasgow, March 5, 1824. 
" Dear Father — On Wednesday last I was seized with an 
inflammatory sore throat, accompanied with rheumatic affec- 
tion, which produced considerably high fever. From that 
time till to-day, the fever rather increased ; but this morning, 
about one, it began rather to abate ; and at the present 
time, which is about one o'clock noon, it still gives symp- 
toms of abatement. From blistering, and vomiting, and 
sweating, which were thought necessary to stop the progress 
of the disease, as well as from the painful nature of the 
disease itself, and my entire inability to eat any thing, I 
have been reduced to a state of great weakness. You need 
not be alarmed, however, as both from my own feelings and 
the opinion of a very skilful physician whom I have employ- 
ed, nothing serious may be apprehended. I would have 
written to you sooner, but I wished to be able to say, when 
I wrote, that I was getting better; and it was only this 
morning that I felt any change that way. I would be glad 
to see any of you ; but Margaret * will be most useful. 

" You see I have been obliged to borrow Mr Marr's hand, 
not being able to sit out of bed so long as to write the letter 
myself. — I am, yours, &c. 

" R. POLLOK." 

" Rose Street, March 19, 1824. 
" Dear Father — I am getting fast well. On Wednesday I 
walked half an hour. Yesterday I walked a whole hour, and 
felt myself none fatigued. I am, indeed, getting most rapidly 
stout; and I think my health is much better than it was 
before I was taken ill. 

* His youngest surviving sister. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 227 

" I have sent you the little book. You are not to say to 
any body who may see it who is the author. — I am, dear 
father, yours, &c* 

« R. Pollok." 

" Rose Street, March 20, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — I have had a severe sickness since I wrote 
to you last. I was taken suddenly ill. It was fever, accom- 
panied and followed with a violent rheumatic affection. Ten 
days was I closely confined to bed, and suffered much from 
the violence of the disease, much also from the vomiting-, 
blistering, and sweating, ordered by the surgeons ; all of 
which, however, as they were applied by the best medical 
skill, had a good effect. I was so weak that I could not 
stand without assistance — reduced almost to a skeleton ; 
but was never in what you would call a very danger- 
ous state ; which was my reason for not ordering a letter 
to you. 

" It is now eight days since I rose ; and, ' Bless the Lord, 
O my soul! and all that is within me' be stirred up to mag- 
nify and ' bless his holy name,' I am recovering my strength 
with wonderful rapidity. The fever has burned up the old 
constitution ; and a new one is fast forming, I trust in many 
respects better. I am now able to walk out an hour and a 
half before dinner, and eat most excellently. Indeed, my 
health is much better than it was before the attack. I am 
doing nothing yet but nursing myself. 

" You owe Heaven gratitude on my account. And surely 
it must be a pleasing sacrifice to the Creator and Preserver 
of men, to see a brother pouring forth his soul in gratitude 



228 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

for a brother, so assisted and cared for as I have been by 
Almighty Goodness ! 

" During- my illness I was most piously attended to by my 
friends. Margaret came, in the fulness of unwearied atten- 
tion, ministering to my comfort. Miss Campbell came, fleet- 
ing like the light of heaven, glowing with infinite regard. 
My father — O how did his countenance comfort me ! John, 
Mrs Pollok, Miss Janet Pollok, Miss Jean, Robert, all 
circled round me. And even M., like the star of the 
morning, lovely, sweet, and glorious, drew near, and threw 
the gladness of innocence into my heart. My friends in 
Glasgow were equally attentive. Mr Marr was the stay 
which God Almighty placed at my right hand. Rejoice with 
me, my brother. And * bless the Lord, O my soul ! ' 

" I received your parcel of letters yesterday, and had the 
opportunity of dispatching them all the same day. Write 
directly. 

" R. Pollok." 

" Rose Street, March 30, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — Yours of the 27th I received this morning. 
I have nothing to say, save that I am now well recovered, 
able to employ myself as usual ; and my spirits rather better 
than formerly. Our friends, for any thing I have heard, are 
all well. In the course of a week or two I shall speak of 
coming to see you. 

« R. Pollok." 

In a few days after writing this letter, he came to see me 
again at Auchindinny ; and on his visit to me at this time he 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 229 

wrote the verses on his sister Janet's death, quoted above at 
page 11. On leaving him in my room one morning at ten 
o'clock, I said to him, as he and I happened to be speaking of 
our sister, that he was to remember he had yet to write some- 
thing or other to keep her in remembrance ; and on returning 
to him at twelve o'clock, mid-day, he had the verses written 
and lying on the table. They were then addressed, in the 
second person, to her daughter, his niece, Janet Young, 
describing her mother's death-bed scene, and the copy of 
them, which he then wrote, is now in my possession. 

His main reason for coming east at this time was, to try 
to dispose, in Edinburgh, of the manuscripts of " Ralph 
Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family." The result or 
success of his attempts, first and last, to dispose of these 
manuscripts, and the effects of it upon his mind, will be seen 
in the progress of the narrative, from a series of his letters 
to me respecting them. 

The first of these letters was written immediately on his 
return to Glasgow, which was the day after he left me at 
Auchindinny ; where he had stayed only a day or two. It is 
as follows : — 

* Glasgow, April 9, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — My coming to Edinburgh has been unfruit- 
ful. The gentleman of whom I spoke did not purchase the 
manuscripts. They were exactly to his own taste, he said, 
but he was afraid they would not suit the taste of the public, 
which in that kind of composition was horribly corrupt. I 
left one of the manuscripts with another bookseller, but have 
scarcely any hope that he will purchase it. 

" When a man is rolling a stone up a hill, and can get no 



230 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

block on which to rest it for a little, or rather, when he is 
disappointed of the one at which he had fatigued himself 
grasping, he is in rather a forlorn case. You can apply the 
simile to my situation. The stone will not crush me, how- 
ever ; we shall rather let it down again, although it should 
endanger two or three on-lookers at the foot of the hill. 

" You will see the happiness of having something to do, 
which depends not so much, as I have been doing of late, 
on the caprice of a present evil world. I would rather be 
made to ride the stang, a very severe kind of punishment, 
than write to please the taste of that part of the public, whose 
praise, admitting we could gain it, is by no means worth the 
having. 

" My ideas are at a stand just now. Trifling as the sum 
of money is which I am in the immediate need of, it makes 
me somewhat uneasy, because I do not see how I am to get 
it. You would be right in saying, that I ought to have 
employed myself at something whose fruit would have been 
sure. I should, there is no doubt of it. Well, well, I must 
just think a day or two, and see to make the best of a bad 
job. 

" I did not write to you from Edinburgh, because I left it 
with a boat at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, and I took 
the resolution to go by it a few minutes only before we set 
off. I arrived safely about ten next morning. You may 
expect to hear from me in the course of two or three weeks. 
I believe I shall leave Glasgow soon for the country. 

" R. POLLOK." 

In very little more than two weeks after the date of this 
letter, I heard from him as follows : — 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 231 

" Glasgow, April 25, 1824. 
11 Dear Brother — I send you with this a manuscript,* which 
you may try to sell in Edinburgh. Brown, Waugh & Innes, 
and Oliphant, you need not try. Robertson, Parliament 
Square, try first ; then Oliver & Boyd, or whoever you may 
think best. If you get money offered, let it go. Ten or 
fifteen guineas is as much as I expect. Indeed, I do not 
expect you will get money offered, but you may try. If you 
will take the trouble to go into town on a Saturday after- 
noon, it will be best just to leave it till next Saturday ; but 
do as you please. Of the manuscript f 1 left in Edinburgh, I 
have yet heard nothing. 

" After you have made all the trials you think necessary, 
send me an account of your labours, but not till then ; for 
as I am sine denario, I wish to have little money called for. 
But write to me in the way of friendship as often as conve- 
nient. 

" Our friends are all well. Our mother, indeed, is not very 
strong, but is getting rather better. 

" Remember me to the Misses Brown. Thank them kindly 
for their attention to me when I was last there. 

" The time of your enjoyment will now be coming. The 
banks of the Logan and the Esk will be putting on their 
leafy garments, and lifting up their song, tuned to the purity 
of nature, to invite you forth to health and happiness. Happy 
may you be ! The man who does his duty needs not be 
otherwise. 

" To avoid expenses, I will write as seldom as I can ; but 

* That of " Ralph Gemmell." 

t That of « The Persecuted Family." 



232 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

when I have any thing to tell you worth a sixpence, I will 
write. 

« R. POLLOK." 

The manuscript of " Ralph Gemmell," which Robert sent 
with this letter, was tried according to his directions, and left 
with Mr Robertson for perusal ; but was soon returned to 
him unsold, along with " an account of my labours." 

In the beginning of May, he wrote to me respecting the 
manuscript of " The Persecuted Family/' which he had left 
in Edinburgh, as follows : — 

" Glasgow, May 3, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — As I have got a letter from our father to 
transmit to you, I take the opportunity of saying a word or 
two on my own account. I am putting you to too much 
trouble, but you must excuse me. I wish you to deliver the 
letter as soon as convenient to Mr Waugh, the gentleman with 
whom I left the manuscript when in Edinburgh. Should he 
give you the manuscript which I have required him to do if 
he is not pleased with it, you may try to sell it from thirty to 
fifteen guineas. If Mr Waugh have any other orders to me, 
send them. I wish you would write to me, at any rate, by the 
end of next week. 

" Mr Marr received your letter. Have you received mine, 
with the manuscript (of ' Ralph Gemmell ? ') 

« R. POLLOK." 

" Waugh and Innes — any body can tell you where their 
shop is." 

On the 17th of the same month he wrote to me again. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 233 

By that time, as the letter will show, he had left Glasgow and 
gone to Moorhouse, and was interestingly employed, part of 
every day, in giving lessons in reading to his nephew John 
Pollok and his niece Janet Young, the one ten years of age 
and the other nine. The letter is as follows : — 

« Moorhouse, May 17, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — I have received the manuscript from Mr 
Waugh. He would tell you that it was sent away. You 
will write to me by the Messrs Taylor. 

" I have now left Glasgow for some time ; and if nothing 
occur to bind me to a particular spot, I shall wander, for I 
know not how long, over the face of the earth, and it may be 
the face of the sea too. Mr Marr has gone home to his father. 

" I have been at Moorhonse eight or ten days. John and 
Janet read to me daily. They are both excellent scholars — 
little hurt by the here-and-there system of education under 
which they exist. John's intellectual powers, as far as they 
can be judged at this early period, are of the best kind. He 
has begun the Latin Rudiments with vigour. This day he 
is at penna, and he will clear it off without a hanker. He 
has also begun to read in Adam's Lessons, for that is my sys- 
tem. But the loss is, I fear my stay at Moorhouse will be 
too short to do him much good. As his memory is excellent, 
it will be the less hurtful to him, however, that he be irregu- 
larly attended to. 

" The young ladies, I understand, are gathering about 
you in an exceeding great multitude.* I have read an 
author, who affirms the most of them to be ' incarnate devils.' 

* This was at an examination of Auchindinny school, which was pa- 
tronized by a number of ladies of piety and benevolence. 

U 



234 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

At any rate, we know for certain that the poet Orpheus was 
torn to pieces on Mount Rhodope by women — an awful ex- 
ample to future generations ! A man may be torn to pieces on 
the banks of the Esk as well as on the mountains of Thrace. 

" R. POLLOK." 

Towards the end of the month, he set out on a long-pro- 
mised visit to his friend, Mr Pollok, at Girvan, and made 
thence an excursion southward as far as the Water of Luce, 
in Galloway. Of this visit, Mr Pollok gives the following 
interesting account in a letter to me, written from his recol- 
lections of it : — 

" Manse of Buckhaven, Jan. 29, 1841. 
" My Dear Friend — It was in the end of May 1824, that your 
brother Robert paid me a visit at Girvan — a place which yet 
forms a green spot in my recollections, and shall continue for 
ever embalmed in my heart by many pleasing associations. 
He was accompanied by his bosom friend Mr Marr, and by 
Mr Meikle, a young author, of whose talents I had often 
heard him speak very favourably. Impelled by the ardour 
of youth, and all three poetic admirers of nature, they prose- 
cuted their journey on foot — a mode of travelling which your 
brother said he preferred to any other, as they could linger 
where the scene required examination, or turn aside to see 
any worthy object ; not to suspect that they had another 
reason for a pedestrian journey — their imaginations being far 
more fertile than their purses. 

" They came from Mauchline by way of Dalrymple, on the 
banks of the Doon ; and there they crossed that celebrated 
stream, which every child of the Muses visits with transport, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 235 

from its hallowed associations with the life and writings of 
the immortal, but ever-to-be-lamented Burns. They stood 
on the bridge and surveyed the river, while they hummed 
over in concert, ' Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonny Doon.' 

" On leaving this, an incident occurred illustrative of your 
brother's command over his risible faculties. While he and 
Mr Meikle were sitting in a farm-house on the wayside, 
where they had called to make some enquiries about the 
country, Mr Marr — having lingered behind, and being in pos- 
session of some copies of Mr Meikle's poems — entered the 
house, having his coat off, thrown over his shoulder, his hat 
side in front, and a stout coarse stick in his hand, and said, 
with the Irish accent, * Well, mistress, are you for any poems 
to-day ? ' ' No,' said the good woman, ' I hae mae books nor 
I can mak a guid use oY ' Won't you look at them ? ' said 
he ; ' they are all in the Scottish dialect, and said to be as 
good as Burns, and besides they are fine paper and print.' 
' Young gentleman,' said he, turning to your brother, ' won't 
you buy them ? ' ' No,' said he gravely, ' I am too like the 
mistress.' i Very well,' said Mr Marr, retiring and pronoun- 
cing over them the Hibernian blessing ; when the mistress 
observed that the country was very loose at present. *■ Yes,' 
said your brother with unshaken gravity, ' and even that is a 
very dangerous-looking character ! ' 

" They proceeded thence towards Dailly, along the banks 
of the Girvan, where the view terminates with high hills, 
whose verdant sides were clothed with luxuriant pasturage 
nearly to the summit, where it mingles with the brown heath, 
and combines the beautiful and romantic. Here was much 
to inflame and swell their bosoms with poetic inspiration : 
Girvan's murmuring and winding stream, inwoven in Scottish 



238 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

song ; the trees robed in their summer dress, united to the 
melody of birds, the lowing of herds, and the bleating of 
sheep, combined with the marks of human industry and com- 
fort, were all rich materials to move a poetic fancy ; and they 
spoke of the scene afterwards with rapture and enthusiasm. 

On their arrival at Girvan, no one could have said by their 
appearance what they were, or what they were about. Your 
brother wore a short coat, light brown and single-breasted, 
with clear buttons, drab vest and trousers, and a broad-brimmed 
hat ; which, with his dark keen eye, firm countenance, manly 
form, and quick active manner, gave him a very interesting 
appearance. I never saw him look so well ; but I must say 
he was more like an heir to a country squireship than a 
student in theology. As for Mr Marr, you perceived at 
once that he was very much at ease about his dress ; but he 
carried along with him an air of kindness and simplicity. 
Honesty and benevolence beamed in his eye. You were 
irresistibly prepossessed in his favour before you spoke to him, 
and after you had, you felt pleased that you had not committed 
any mistake ; you found in him a liberal mind and a guileless 
heart. Of Mr Meikle's appearance I have not so distinct a 
recollection ; but, being poetical and humorous, well-read, 
and a young aspirant to authorship, he was an agreeable 
fellow-traveller. 

" On the evening of their arrival they surveyed the town 
of Girvan, situated on a large plain at the influx of the river 
of that name into the sea ; and they contemplated with rap- 
ture the magnificent scene — on the south a moorish and 
mountainous country, on the north-west the Frith of Clyde, 
rolling his majestic waves with the power and grandeur of 
the ocean; in the distance, on the north, Goatfell and the 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 237 

other peaks of Arran, penetrating the clouds, and the rocky 
boundaries of the Frith stretching to the Mull of Kintyre ; 
Ailsa Craig, sitting in the middle in solitary grandeur, pre- 
senting, amidst the waves, its bare summit to the blue sky. 

" Next morning they left me at Girvan, with a promise to 
meet me on the third day thereafter on the banks of the 
Stinchar, at Kirkdamdie fair, which, being then a Scottish 
Donnybrook, your brother wished to see for its exhibitions 
of human nature ; and they proceeded westward along the 
shore towards Portpatrick. The road at that time ascended 
the hills, from which they had an unbroken continuation of 
forlorn and awful grandeur onward to the foot of Glenapp, 
whither they directed their course. It was elevated, at an 
average, four and five hundred feet above the sea, whose 
sonorous and restless waves they saw ever moving and ever 
breaking on the shelvy rocks beneath them, as the road 
winded at one time along the side of the steep ascent, or at 
another along the top of the precipice, whose broken crags 
and rugged irregularity told them what convulsions of nature 
had happened there. 

" Four miles from Girvan they turned aside from their 
path, and ascended Ardmillan hill ; where an incident occurred 
which your brother has beautifully described in the fifth 
Book of " The Course of Time." It was the rolling of stones 
down the hill. They afterwards descended to the bottom of 
the declivity, down which the stones had rushed with impetu- 
osity into the sea, where they discovered a little plain beneath 
a small precipice, opposite to which the sea had formed a 
smooth narrow bay ; and whenever your brother saw it, he 
exclaimed, " O Marr ! what if two lovers had met here, * to 



238 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

live one day of parting love/ and had fallen in this luckless 
hour by thy cruel hand ! " This incident made a deep impres- 
sion on your brother's mind, and never left it. It was among 
the first things he related to me after we met ; and, when he 
and Mr Marr took their last farewell, he reminded him of 
what might have happened by the rolling of stones down 
Ardmillan hill, and requested him never to engage in that 
amusement again. 

" Having bathed in the small bay, they proceeded onward 
to Ballantrae ; where they crossed the Stinchar just above its 
influx into the sea. They lingered some time on the bridge, 
and your brother was very much delighted with the water 
and the salmon, which they saw numerously playing beneath. 
Leaving the shore at this place, they went right into the inte- 
rior. They ascended a range of hills south of Ballantrae, 
and, just as they gained the lofty summit of Ard-stinchar, the 
sun was disappearing behind Goatfell. The scene was magni- 
ficent. It was the calm of a summer eve, when the heat of the 
day is past, and the dews have not yet fallen ; when the wind 
has ceased, and the cool breeze of night has not begun to 
blow. The sea moved, but no breath curled the top of the 
blue wave. Burnished by the amber rays from the red clouds, 
its surface ever sparkled before their eyes. Not a voice was 
heard but the chattering of the swallow or the screeching 
of the sea-fowl along the distant beach. Ailsa Craig and 
Knockdollion sat like twin sisters in the midst of the scene, 
The Mull of Kintyre and the mouth of the vast Atlantic lay 
before them. On the left, their eyes stretched over the 
heath-clad hills that impend Glenapp and Loch Ryan, and 
far along the coast of Ireland. This was a scene that your 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 239 

brother esteemed worth all the fatigue of their journey ; and 
they gazed on it till it became shaded in the dimness of 
approaching night. 

" Turning from this scene, they proceeded inward into a 
district the most wild, barren, and uncultivated ; which they 
continued to survey till its gloom was brightened by the splen- 
dour of the starry heavens, with no other expectation than 
to be exposed to the chilly dampness all night ; when the 
barking of a dog directed their course to a solitary light 
before them, which proceeded from a moorland farm-house ; 
where they asked for shelter, and were welcomed to such ac- 
commodation as the dwelling could afford. 

" Next day, they proceeded across the moor as far as the 
Water of Luce, and bore in on Cairn- Ryan ; which was the 
farthest point of their journey southward. Here your 
brother expressed a wish to go forward to Stranraer to see 
Mr Smellie,* whose goodness of heart and other excellences 
he much admired ; but their engagement with me next day, 
prevented them. They returned along the banks of Loch 
Ryan and up Glenapp, which extends from the shores of the 
loch about five miles northward ; and whose varied scenery 
very much cheered their spirits. They passed through it at 
mid-day, and the natural beauties of the glen made them 
linger on this sweet spot longer than on any other part of 
their journey. Your brother named it the Land of the 
Cuckoo, as they were saluted in every direction by that 
favourite of the Muses. 

" Leaving* Glenapp, they proceeded to Colmonel, where 
they passed the night in the house of Mrs Blair, widow of 

* Minister of one of the United Secession congregations in that town. 



240 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the late Rev. John Blair, long minister of the Secession 
church in that place. 

" Next day they met me on the Stinchar, at Kirkdamdie 
fair, which was then held about ten miles above Colmonel ; but 
we soon left it, resolved never to meet at it again. Though your 
brother, both as a poet and philosopher, appreciated the exhi- 
bition of human nature which he had witnessed there, he 
felt also as a Christian in regard to it, and expressed his 
sorrow that such things should exist. 

" They remained with me the following day at Girvan, and 
we spent the afternoon, by invitation, in the house of a 
worthy friend of mine, Mr M' William, lawyer; whose 
accomplished lady was very versant in the literature then 
issuing from the press ; and she and your brother, soon find- 
ing that they were kindred spirits, entered very minutely and 
extensively into the merits of the authors whose works they 
had read. This was the first opportunity that I had had, 
after leaving college, of knowing that your brother had ac- 
quired so extensive an acquaintance with general literature ; 
and I was surprised to find how much he had read. The 
manner in which he discussed and valued the merits of an 
author, pointed out his prominent features, his peculiar worth, 
and his greatest defects, together with the immense number 
of books, both in poetry and prose, that he showed he had 
read, pleased and astonished all present. Of Byron he said, 
that he always appears, in some form, as the hero of his 
piece ; and of Burns, that his greatest power lay in the ease 
and simplicity with which he represented men and things 
exactly as they are. 

" We all reflected on this meeting with pleasure ; which 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 241 

your brother esteemed as a sweet and unexpected oasis in 
the desert. I may add, that I often heard Mrs M' William 
say of him afterwards, that he was the cleverest young man 
she had ever met with; and that he continued to make 
occasional enquiries about this worthy lady and her family as 
long as he lived. — I am, my dear friend, yours faithfully, 

" Robert Pollok." 

In the middle of June, soon after his return to Moorhouse 
from what has been called his Girvan visit or Glenapp excur- 
sion, he wrote to me respecting the manuscripts of " Ralph 
Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family" as follows : — 

* Moorhouse, June 15, 1842.. 
" Dear Brother — I received yours of June 7th in due time. 
I cannot return the manuscript of (' Ralph Gemmell') before 
the end of next week, as I intend to write it all out again. I 
will make several corrections, and some little additions. 
Your determination of burning the manuscript * was worthy 
both of you and me. 

" I would not have written to you till next week, had I not, 
being a kind of post-office or secretary for Auchindinny 
affairs, had beside me some letters for you, which I have 
already kept too long. I take the opportunity of sending 
with them a manuscript which you have not yet seen.f It 
is longer, you will see, than * Ralph ;' and, although chiefly 
designed for youth, intended for youth at a more advanced 
period. It may be read, perhaps, by young men. The 
design of the piece is, to show what powerful consolation 

* Rather than agree to some unworthy proposal of a bookseller, 
t This was the manuscript of M The Persecuted Family." 



242 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

religion can give in most unpleasing circumstances in life ; 
and, while it guards the mind of the reader against the bad 
tendency of those widely-spread books which ridicule the 
memories of our persecuted ancestors, to impress his mind 
with a veneration of their firmness, and inspire into it the 
ardour of their piety. You will judge whether I have been 
successful or not. Make what corrections you can. Leave 
no errors uncorrected. It has just now a considerable number 
• — slips in orthography and other little things. It is rather 
badly written too : if you have any difficulty in making out 
any word, score it out, and write it more plainly above. Two 
of the chapters want mottoes. I will send them to you with 
i Ralph,' and you will write them. Give it to Mr Robertson, 
along with the other manuscript when it comes. I shall 
mention it to him in a letter which, God willing, I shall send 
along with the manuscript. 

" I have been in the west country lately, but have no news. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" Our friends, I had said, are all well ; but Miss Campbell, 
as she will probably tell you in her letter, is in a very poor 
state of health." 

A week after writing this letter, he sent tome the manuscript 
of " Ralph Gemmell," accompanied by a letter to Mr Robert- 
son, and the following one to me, chiefly in reference to the 
two manuscripts, which had now both received his last cor- 
rections : — 

" Moorhouse, June 22, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — Be so kind as give the manuscripts to Mr 
Robertson. I will give them no more correction, neither the 
one nor the other of them. If you can sell them as they are, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 243 

one or both of them, good and well ; if not, I shall light my 
pipe with them. And I would far rather do this last than 
give them for a trifle. I do not look for fame from them. 
If they do not bring me money, then why should I print 
them ? If Robertson print them, you will perhaps correct 
the sheets. 

" I should like very well to come and see you, but I am 
out of travelling expenses. My father talks of coming to see 
you about the beginning of July. I do not say that he will 
certainly be, however ; but I am advising him, and he says he 
would like very much. 

" I expect to hear from you soon ; and when you do write, 
let me have some local news — something about Auchindinny. 
Be as short as you can on the manuscripts business, as the 
simple thought of them is very apt to sicken me. 

" R. PoLLOK. 

"N.B — I shall try to write you one decent letter yet, before 
the Hall. Do you mean to come at the commencement, or 
when? 

" You may seal Mr Robertson's letter after you have read 
it. The observations on the criticisms you can give him, or 
not, as you think fit.* 

" I have not sent you the mottoes I spoke of. If the piece 
sell, I shall send them." 

His letter to Mr Robertson, together with his " observa- 
tions on the criticisms," was delivered to that gentleman, 
along with the manuscripts of " Ralph Gemmell " and " The 
Persecuted Family," both of which he soon proceeded to 

* These were observations made by him on criticisms written on the 
MSS. by some critics, to whose consideration Mr Robertson had submitted 
them. 



244 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

print ; though, as will be seen afterwards, a bargain was not 
completed with him for the copyright of them till November, 
when it was finally sold to him for twenty guineas. 

According to his promise, he did "try to write" me "one 
decent letter before the Hall." How he succeeded in his 
trial the letter itself will show. While it indicates his feel- 
ings with respect to his own late endeavours, it expresses 
some of his sentiments on the most important of all subjects 
— the subject of personal happiness. As a whole, it extends 
considerably the memoir of his mind and the record of his 
opinions. It is as follows : — 

" Moorhouse, July 28, 1824. 
** Dear Brother — Would any of those invisible spiritual 
beings which are reported to be so nimble in their motions, 
and to possess so great a potency over the affairs of mortals, 
take upon it, at this moment, the trouble of informing me 
what you most desire me to write, and what you are most 
interested in, I would certainly gratify you to the utmost ; 
as I have, unfortunately, no particular interests of my own 
that might divert me from yours. I have nothing to say 
of myself, but that I have nothing to say of myself. 

" Nothing has made me glad, for the last two or three 
months, except the account of your happiness. It pleases me 
exceedingly to hear that you are, in some considerable mea- 
sure, satisfied with your own endeavours ; which, in your 
case, must be worthy, and calculated to open for you, as you 
proceed, purer and more abundant sources of enjoyment. 
Satisfaction with one's self is the chief ingredient in that cup 
of happiness which all, except the hopeless, seek after. And 
if I thought that exhortation on this subject might be of any 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 245 

profit from one who lias refused it himself, I would most 
willingly spend much time in persuading you to be satisfied 
with yourself. Satisfaction arises out of active and manly 
endeavours ; and those endeavours, which are necessary to 
peace of mind, have their origin in the interest that we take 
in general existence. The deeper and wider, therefore, our 
interest in being is, the more extensive and vigorous will be 
our endeavours ; and so, if they are rightly directed, will be 
the depth and calm of the self-esteem which arises out of 
them. The tree that spreads its roots most widely, strikes 
them most deeply, and interweaves them most intimately and 
most numerously with the soil that surrounds it, puts forth 
the most luxuriant branches, and becomes the pride of the 
forest. So the man that holds the deepest sympathy with 
that system of things in which God hath placed him, 
shall have the greatest share of happiness in himself, and 
be the most honourable in the judgment of reason. It is 
absurd to say, that satisfaction with one's self excludes 
improvement. Whoever shall think it worth while to exa- 
mine the matter, shall see that it is one of the chief causes 
which prompt to it. So necessary, indeed, is it to this pur- 
pose, that without some reasonable degree of it, exertion, and 
therefore improvement, will cease. To be pleased with one's 
self above what sober reason dictates, may render one some- 
what offensive to his fellow-creatures, and may be ultimately 
attended with some inconvenience to himself; but to be 
utterly dissatisfied with all our endeavours, to lose all interest 
in being, all sympathy with nature, is, as the ghost in Ham- 
let says, 

' Horrible, horrible, most horrible !' 

" R. POLLOK. 



246 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" I expect to hear from you soon. Our mother is at 
Helensburgh ; where I left her last Saturday. Your return 
is impatiently waited for." 

In August, he and I met again at the Hall, and our corre- 
spondence by letter was suspended till its close. His dis- 
course, this session, was a critical exercise, the text of which 
was 1 Peter iv. 18, " And if the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?" In pre- 
paring the exereise, he consulted, on the passage, partly for 
information and partly for curiosity, six or eight commen- 
taries ; " some of them,'' as he said hyperbolically, u such 
enormous tomes that it would have required a steam-engine 
of six-horse-power to open two of their leaves ; " and he was 
much amused in finding that almost every one of them gave 
a different view of it, at least of the words rendered 
" scarcely," and " saved." He thought therefore, he said, 
as they were all equal in authority, he might be as safe 
to give a different view of it from any of them, especially as 
he tried to take his from the context. For the use of these 
commentaries, it may be added, he was indebted to the kind- 
ness of several obliging individuals, booksellers and others, in 
Glasgow. For one of them, namely Poole's " Synopsis," he 
applied to the Rev. now Dr William Kidston, who, with 
characteristic frankness, readily gave him access to it. " Mr 
Kidston," he said to me, on his return from consulting the 
" Synopsis," " frankly and familiarly led me into his library, 
and not only showed me the ponderous folios of the work, 
and helped me to raise them from the under-shelves to the 
table — no small labour, either, for two of us — but assisted me 
in turning over their massive leaves, a most needful piece of 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 247 

service." Besides consulting so many commentaries, he took, 
otherwise, much pains in preparing the exercise, and, on 
delivery, it was, like his former discourses, approved of by 
the Professor. 

In the course of the session, he told me of a circumstance 
which had given him great encouragement in writing ; and 
it seems proper to mention it here, on account of the happy 
effect which it produced on him. 

He had been gratified, he said, since he saw me, by a most 
encouraging criticism from that great and good man, Dr 
Ferrier of Paisley ; for he had always been severely criti- 
cized by little men and little critics. They would allow him 
no talents, and he thought God had given him some talent. 
For a good while he gave no heed to them, and they had no 
impression on him ; but at length, as they were most per- 
tinacious and clamorous in their severity, he began to 
think that, perhaps, they might be right — that he might be 
only deceiving himself — that he might really, after all, have 
no literary talent. About this time, Glasgow Presbytery 
having been divided into committees for superintending the 
studies of the students under the inspection of that Presby- 
tery, he was appointed to Paisley committee, and the cir- 
cumstance gave him pleasure, as, knowing that Dr Ferrier 
would be a member of it, he said he would have it determi- 
ned now whether he had talent for writing or not. 

As soon as he got a text, which was these words in 
1 Thess. v. 21, " Prove all things," he sat down and wrote 
a discourse, expressly for Dr Ferrier's criticism. He hoped 
it would draw his attention ; and he knew that he would 
learn by his criticism whether he should believe the little 
critics or not. If the doctor condemned the discourse, he 



248 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thought he might give up the idea of writing any thing ; if 
he approved of it, he was resolved to entertain the idea 
as formerly, and write when and what he pleased, in spite 
of the critics. In due time he went and delivered the dis- 
course in Paisley to the committee at one of its meetings ; 
and when he had done so, all the members of committee, 
except Dr Ferrier, fell foul of his discourse, one after another, 
and condemned it altogether : they found fault with every 
thing about it — pronounced it erroneous — and declared 
they could not sustain it. When they had sat down, Dr 
Ferrier, who had now a fine opportunity for showing his 
independence of thinking, rose with his accustomed dignity, 
and delivered, in his best style, a most elaborate criticism, 
nearly as long as the discourse itself which called it forth. 
He showed the most intimate and familiar acquaintance with 
the subject of which it treated; and his remarks were at 
the same time systematic and copious. He criticized every 
thing about it — plan, arrangement, ideas, doctrine, reasoning, 
composition, style, every thing. He took up almost every 
idea that was in it, and set it in its proper light or legitimate 
bearing. He seemed to enter into the writer's very thoughts 
and train of thinking, and to see exactly what he had in view 
when he was writing it; and having defended it, with great 
ability, against all the objections of the other members of 
committee, he cleared it fairly of the charge of error, " Mr 
Pollok," he said, " was bordering on error, but he was never 
erroneous." He then stated his own opinion of the discourse ; 
and, on the whole, gave a most favourable view of it. " The 
discourse," he added, " was good in itself, and indicated supe- 
rior talent and capacity for thinking and writing." In 
speaking of the style, he said it was characterized by three 



THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 249 

qualities, which Robert said he had long laboured, and was 
most desirous, to attain — perspicuity, conciseness, and energy. 
Before sitting down, besides strongly expressing his appro- 
bation of the discourse, he mildly, but firmly and impressively, 
represented to the other members of committee the propriety 
of sustaining it, and it was sustained accordingly. But had 
it not been for Dr Ferrier — such is the influence, the power, 
of greatness and goodness — it would not have been received. 
So Robert left the committee, determined, he said, thencefor- 
ward to give no heed to little men and less critics, but to 
take courage and go on writing with vigour. 

During this session of the Hall, he was better known and 
more taken notice of among his fellow-students than for- 
merly. He had also more intercourse with them ; and he 
gained the respect, esteem, and friendship of those, who 
were a considerable number of the whole, with whom he 
associated freely. 

In November, this year, he entered as a student of theo- 
logy in the Divinity Hall of the University of Glasgow, 
under the professorship of the Rev. Stevenson Macgill, 
D.D., and he attended it regularly both that session and the 
next one ; and this he did, as he was in Glasgow at any rate, 
to get all the instruction he could on the important subject 
of theology, as also to have access to the college Divi- 
nity Hall Library, which contained many valuable books 
that he wished to consult. For this Hall he wrote, while 
attending it, one sermon, the text of which was Mat. 
v. 8, " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see 
God." 

In the middle of November he had occasion to go to 
Edinburgh once more about the manuscripts ; and he paid 



250 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

me a third visit at Auchindinny. From Edinburgh, on his 
way back to Glasgow, he wrote me the following letter, 
telling me that he had " completed a bargain with Mr 
Robertson" for the copyright of the two tales, " Ralph 
Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family:" — 

" Edinburgh, Nov. 22, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — I have completed a bargain with Mr 
Robertson. Five guineas I have received, you know. I am 
to receive fifteen guineas more for the two manuscripts before 
the middle of January. The bargain is on black and white. 

" Mr Robertson is very fond I should write more for him. 
But God only knows what I shall do. I have written to 
Mr Elliot,* informing him that I cannot go to Ford. Do 
you approve of it ? 

" I mean to set off for Glasgow to-morrow morning. I 
am just now in Mr Sommerville's (inn, Grassmarket.) 

** < The Persecuted Family' is pretty correct, to have had 
no corrector but a printer's reader.f It has many errors, 
however, especially in punctuation. 

" I shall expect to hear from you in the course of ten 

days. I wish you would remember me to Miss ; I 

mean the good one. I cannot bear the thought of being 
totallv forgotten by her. May God be with you, my dear 
brother ! « R. Pollok." 

Such was the u manuscripts business ;" than which, first 
and last, when taken in connexion with the success of the 

* Minister of the United Secession congregation at Ford, from whom he 
had an application for teaching there. 

f I had not been asked to " correct the sheets." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 251 

Tales immediately after their publication, as well as more 
recently, nothing could more plainly evince the incapacity 
of the publishers to whom they were offered, to judge 
of their merits, or more clearly display their ignorance of 
" the taste of the public in compositions of that kind ?" To 
how many publishers were they offered only to be refused? 
What difficulty to find even one that would offer money for 
them, or think of publishing them on any terms ? and what 
a small sum obtained for them after all ! No wonder " the 
simple thought of them " was " very apt to sicken " him ! 

It seems proper to subjoin a few words here with respect 
to his feelings in reference to the authorship of the three 
Tales, « Helen of the Glen," « Ralph Gemmell," and « The 
Persecuted Family" — all of them being now published with 
his name. 

In the first, and in every subsequent edition of them, 
printed during his lifetime, these Tales were anonymous. 
He never owned, and was resolved never to own, the author- 
ship of them. How then, it may perhaps be asked, did they 
come to be published with his name ? and why speak, or give 
an account of his writing them ? The reply to this is short 
and easy. Not long after his death they were all three, not 
only without the consent of his relations, but in disregard of 
their strongly expressed wishes, published, by the proprie- 
tors of the copyright, with the author's name. After this, 
to speak of them in writing his Life, became indispensable ; 
and in doing so, as it could not be denied that they were his, 
the only way seemed to be, to give a full and detailed account 
of the circumstances under which they were written. 



252 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 



CHAPTER IX. 

While lie was on his visit at Auchindinny in the month of 
November, he told me that he had begun at Moorhouse, 
in the end of October, " a history" of himself, in a letter 
which he meant, on his return to Glasgow, to finish and 
send me. Contrary, however, to his intention, he did not 
do so ; but I found it among his papers after his death. It 
is a memoir of his mind from the time that he turned his 
attention to literature in 1815. While it supplies several 
intentional omissions in the preceding narrative, it confirms 
some things stated there, and illustrates and explains others. 
It is as follows : — 

« Moorhouse, Oct. 31, 1824. 
" Dear Brother — To speak often of one's unhappiness, how- 
ever great may be the cause, is received by the world, and 
justly, as the sure token of a weak and querulous mind. To 
complain to those who can give us no redress, is foolish ; to 
those who will not hear, mean ; to those who will laugh at 
our sorrow, or entertain it coldly, bitterness, mingled with 
gall ; and so will the tale of our woes be received by the 
bulk of mankind. Who, knowing this, will say that it is not 
weakness and folly to complain ? 

" Yet there is one heart so attuned by the finger of God 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 253 

to every thrill that quivers over the hiddenest and tenderest 
strings of ours, that to conceal our sorrows from it would be 
to throw discord into the harmony of nature ; yet there is 
one ear so sacred, that we can speak in it as in the ear of 
heaven ; and one faith so inviolate, that we can trust to it as 
we trust to the decrees of eternity. It is the heart, the ear, 
the faith, of friendship. And yet I would not trouble even 
you with the history of my perplexity, had I not, in some 
measure, now got out of it. 

" From the first moment I turned my attention to litera- 
ture, I felt within me, for I shall speak plainly, a strong 
desire, not without much confidence of success, of doing 
something in that way that might benefit both my contem- 
poraries and those who should come after me. For some 
time desire and faith increased ; and however much my 
studies might be hindered, and my hours, now and then, sad- 
dened by the want of health and accidental vexations, the 
march of my improvement was rapid, and the tenor of my 
way glorious and happy. I finished whatever I undertook ; 
and, although seldom pleased with the execution, yet often 
satisfied. I never envied my companions, nor even any of my 
contemporaries ; for I was daily bringing my soul to the trial 
of those standards of excellence which time hath left stand- 
ing behind him, and which come more into view, and are 
established more firmly, by every hour that passes over 
them. 

" Till the time that I took, along with you, my degree in 
arts, and for a twelvemonth after I left college, this steady 
purpose of concentrating my exertions in some excellent 
literary enterprize, the effects of which should be lasting, had 
been little shaken, and my thoughts seldom broken and 



254 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

interrupted by the consideration of circumstances. Then, 
however, I began to think seriously how unreasonable it was 
to put my father to any more expenses ; and to feel how ina- 
dequate all that he could spare me was for maintaining- me 
in that way — no extravagant one as you know — in which I 
wished to live. He had already given me an education 
beyond his circumstances — for which, I trust, God shall 
reward him by me — and not only without ever saying, or 
seeming to think, that I was burdensome to him, but acom- 
panying every farthing I received from him with a look of 
as much satisfaction and paternal sweetness, as I had put 
into his hand some gift of my filial affection. He never 
complained ; but he had given me the means of knowing my 
duty ; and every thought now began to be imbued, and every 
plan tried, by the need I was in of gaining something for 
myself. 

" Poetry had been hitherto the darling of my soul ; and 
all my studies had been conducted, and my observations on 
the world made, with the design of accomplishing myself in 
that art, for which, I thought, nature had intended me. 
But I could not bear the idea of writing hastily, or of being 
forced to let any thing out of my hands, before I had made 
it as perfect as I could by time and pains. Especially in that 
divine art, which I looked upon, and which I do still look 
upon, as the noblest employment of the mind of man, I could 
not, for a moment, endure the thought of making an attempt, 
hurried by the pressure of circumstances ; or of making any 
thing of that sort public, that I did not think excellent at 
least myself. Then first my mind began to shift its aim, and 
to think of the shortest road to independence. Then first 
envy of the fortune of those who are born to affluence 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 255 

rankled in my breast ; and I began to acknowledge the force 
of circumstances over the mind, and to feel how much indeed 
genius is 

' Checked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown, 
And poverty's unconquerable bar.' 

The immediate need of realizing money put me upon a 
thousand schemings averse to my nature, which, after they 
had been entertained for a little, were laid aside for others, as 
soon abandoned, from the same cause. Accident, about this 
time, drove me into a path which did, indeed, gain me some- 
thing ; but which was so totally different from that track in 
which I had been preparing myself to move, that I neither 
wished, nor could hope, to excel in it.* To write below 
one's own ideas of excellence, to write sometimes merely to 
fill up a certain number of pages, to write against inclination, 
and habit of thought — Oh, it is anguish inexpressible ! It is 
worse, surely worse, than want itself. But there were many 
respectable paths in polite literature as well as my favourite 
one, in which I had some inclination to enter, and for the 
prosecution of which I had some conviction of ability ; and 
I had a hundred times nearly resolved to commence my 
career in some one of them. But either the want of satisfac- 
tion, which I felt I should have even had I excelled in some 
of them, or the numberless books to which access would have 
been necessary to the accomplishment of some of my wavering 
designs, and chiefly the time which it would have taken to 
have satisfied myself even moderately — for it was ill to bear 
the thought of writing, in any department, less excellently 

* This was, no doubt, from the summer of 1823 till that of 1824, within 
which time he wrote the three Tales, noticed above. 



256 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

than one could — compelled me to stop just when I was begin- 
ning-. Becoming more wavering by every broken resolution, 
and more careless what I should choose to do as the pressure 
of circumstances was more severely felt, I sometimes threw 
an eye over those unhallowed regions in which so many of 
the sons of genius sport themselves amidst the smiles of 
fortune ; and although I knew that on them and their works 
would soon come down the clouds of deep and everlasting 
forgetfulness — almost regardless of the true voice of fame, 
which is the praise of God and nature, given to real ex- 
cellence, and which is never first uttered by the multitude 
— almost regardless of the voice of my Creator, speaking in 
my conscience — there were moments when I thought of 
venturing on the unhallowed ground, however dreadful might 
be the consequences. But God did not leave me to my- 
self. The resolution of engaging in what should be of bad 
result, or even productive only of negative good, vanished 
before it was made, and my soul trembled at the recollection 
of it. 

" While my mind was thus agitated with a multitude of 
hostile thoughts, poetry, which I held too sacred to be 
mingled with them, was shut up in the secret recesses of my 
heart, and I still indulged the hope, that whatever should 
engage me for a time, should not prevent me from devoting 
to it, erelong, my chief attention. But, like the flower that 
has been removed from the rays of the sun, and the breezes 
of health, I saw it withering in a soil which had ceased to 
cherish it. The ideas, which I had collected with pleasure, 
and which I reckoned peculiarly my own, were dropping 
away one after another. Fancy was returning from her 
flight ; Memory giving up her trust ; what was vigorous 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 257 

becoming weak ; and what was cheerful and active, dull and 
indolent." 

Thus far he had proceeded in writing ; and here he has 
stopped, and left the account unfinished. With what sympa- 
thetic feelings of wonder, and distressful concern, does it 
leave us ! It is the less to be regretted, however, that he has 
not finished it, as the subject has been resumed in a passage 
in his published writings, and so far prosecuted as to form, 
in effect, a conclusion to the letter. In the third Book of 
" The Course of Time," after speaking of disappointment, he 
proceeds, in illustration, with a description in reference to 
himself, coinciding in substance with the above, to the last 
nineteen verses, which bring the subject of it to a conclu- 
sion.* 

In the beginning of January he wrote to me from Glasgow ; 
and his letter carries forward his history to that time. It 
is, most of it, in reality though not in form, a continuation 
of the memoir of himself, inserted immediately above : and 
a happy continuation it is. While the former closes in list- 
lessness and despondency, leaving us in withering vacuity, 
the latter opens in activity and hope, bringing us into enliven- 
ing realities. He had now, not only " in some measure," but 
altogether, "got out of his "perplexity." "The ideas, 
which" he "had collected with pleasure, and which" he 
"reckoned peculiarly" his " own," were dropping "in one 
after another ; Fancy was returning " to " her flight ; Me- 
mory" taking " up her trust ; what was becoming weak had 
become vigorous ; and what was dull and indolent, cheerful 

* The passage referred to, commences with the verse, 
" One of this mood I do remember well." 

Y 



258 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

and active." Poetry, his "favourite" art, the darling of his 
soul, like the flower that has been restored to " the rays of 
the sun and the breezes of health," was reviving " in a soil 
which" again cherished it ; and "the hope" that he "indulged 
of devoting to it, erelong, his " chief attention," was fulfilled. 
The letter is as follows : — 

" Glasgow, Jan. 8, 1825. 
" Dear Brother — I wish you a happy new-year ; and Miss 

, I mean the good one, I wish a happy new-year. 

" I have been in Glasgow, since I saw you, constantly. 
My health is not in a very dancing mood ; but I believe it 
is not much worse than men of my habits are wont to pos- 
sess it. Before the new-year I had about three weeks of 
glorious study. Soaring in the pure ether of eternity, and 
linking my thoughts to the everlasting throne, I felt the 
healthy breezes of immortality revive my intellectual nerves, 
and found a point, unshaken and unthreatened by the rock- 
ings and stormings of this world. Blank verse, the language 
of assembled gods, the language of eternity, was the form into 
which my thoughts fell. Some of them, I trust, shall out- 
live me in this world ; and nothing, I hope, shall make me 
ashamed to meet them in the next. Thoughts, acquire- 
ments, appendages of any kind, that cannot be carried with us 
out of time into the help and solace of our eternity, but must 
be left the unredeemed and unredeemable of death, are little 
worth harbouring about us. It is the everlastingness of a 
thing that gives it weight and importance. And surely it is 
not impossible, even now, to have thoughts and ideas that 
may be transported over the vale of death, and not be refused 
the stamp and signature of the Eternal King. No doubt, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 259 

the clearest eye must unscale when it comes in view of the 
uncreated light ; and the purest earthly thought must wash 
itself before it enter into the holy of holies on high ; but there 
are different eyes from those which have never tried to see, 
and there are different thoughts from those which must be 
exiled for ever, beyond the confines of purity. 

" I was broken up at the new-year, or rather a week before 
it ; first, by the arrival of Mr Mackenzie, who came into the 
same room with me ; and then by my going to Moorhouse, 
when I met the Messrs Taylor, with their [sister Margaret, 
and also Miss Campbell. Our mother wishes me to tell you 
that she is in her ' silly ordinary.' The rest of your friends, 
in this country, for aught I know, are all well. 

" You will receive with this letter your gaiters and ink, 
which you spoke of. I send you also the verses you spoke of 
in your letter. Those on * Divine Benignity* are good only 
here and there, and not fit to be shown except to some uncri- 
tical brain. 

" I suppose you are still studying eloquence, and thinking 
of producing effect. In this pursuit it is proper to exercise 
and accustom the physical organs ; but the grand thing is 
the love of virtue. ' How he should be eloquent who is not 
withal a good man, I see not,' says John Milton ; and how 
he, whose mind is kindled into the love of virtue, whose cir- 
cumcised fancy delights to hover around the throne of the 
Ancient of Days, and whose intellect, turning the leaves of 
man's destiny, grasps the whole interests of his time and his 
eternity, should choose to be aught else but eloquent, when 
he takes upon him to instruct and guide his fellow-men, I 
find not proof of. 

" Mr Mackenzie, who came to Glasgow to deliver his dis 



260 THE LIFE OF ROBERT FOLLOK. 

courses, set off for England this morning. I am therefore 
left alone, and hope soon to be able to think some again. It 
is very precarious, however. I am still, by fits, subject to 
that Zaaraian wastefulness of soul that refuses all comfort, 
and lothes all exercise. 

" I mean to remove on Tuesday first to No. 80, Surrey 
Street, Laurieston ; but as it is uncertain, address your first 
letter to me, Mrs Walker, 6, Oxford Lane, Laurieston, and 
write soon. I promise to answer you sooner in future. 

" R. POLLOK." 

This letter, on reading which I knew, with inexpressible 
joy, that he had now found a subject to write on, fixes the 
date of the most momentous era in his literary history. It 
is, that "three weeks before the new-year" 1825, or in the 
beginning of December 1824, when he had newly entered 
on the twenty-seventh year of his age, he began to write 
" The Course of Time." 

His next letter to me, which is very characteristic, espe- 
cially in regard to his interest in his friends, and his way of 
talking about them, shows also his progress in the writing of 
his poem, and gives some particulars respecting it. With 
the omission of two or three passages, it is as follows: — 

" No. 1, Norfolk Court, Laurieston, 
Glasgow, Feb. 7, 1825. 
" Dear Brother — I received your letter to-day, and answer 
it thus speedily, because I should have written before now, 
having beside me, rather too long, sundry letters and parcels 
for you. Margaret's answer, which has been beside me 
for some time, comes with this. As she writes, our 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 261 

father delays writing for some time, but wishes to hear 

from you often. I had him in Glasgow with me the other 

night, hale, fresh, and jocund — he is a wonderful man at 

sixty-eight. He was very happy. We conversed much ; 

and amoug other things, when I told him that, from the 

course of thinking and study in which I knew you to be 

engaged, I had no doubt that you would be more than an 

ordinarily useful man, if God spared you, in this world, there 

was a feeling of delight on his countenance which repaid 

him many a trouble. 

****** 

" John, whom I saw to-day, would answer your letter ; 
but he can never please himself in writing. His taste, it 
seems, has got before his ability to execute — a thing, by the 
by, very apt to happen with the learned as well as with an 
honest farmer — the contemplation of excellence being far 
more agreeable to the sluggish nature of man than the pro- 
duction of it. John, however, wishes me, with all brotherly 
affection on his part, and all love and prayer for you, to 
relate, that he and Mrs Pollok are quite well ; and that his 
family, who have all had the chin-cough, are getting well 
through. But John has still a very severe cough, and is 
thereby kept from school. It is impossible to keep him 
within doors, or to get him under any kindly and regular 
nursing : for he is one of those ever-planning, ever-active, 
humanly-uncontrollable spirits, that Providence takes under 
its own management ; and sometimes, when common men, 
looking with amazement on their seemingly unguided career, 
shake their ponderous heads with awful gravity, as if they 
saw some planet cut off from its orbit, and with fearfully 
erroneous adventure rushing on, ruining and ruined, accom- 



262 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

plishes by their ministry its wonderful designs, and gives 
them an inheritance of everlasting renown ; and further, 
with seeming folly, far overreaches the wisdom of the wise. 
* * The many friends who have a regardful eye on 

John, his own generous and manly disposition, with the 
blessing of God, which we all pray for, will, I trust, bring 
him to ripe years not unhonourably. 

Janet Young is with Mrs Gilmour.* She has been unwell 
for some time. I was out and saw her lately ; she is getting 
better, although slowly, for it is not easy to get out of chin- 
coughs, measles, and the like, with which she has been 
afflicted. Jean is very careful about her ; and I shall not 
neglect to see that proper remedies be applied, although I 
hope she will need few. Her father left Glasgow early in 
January for St Domingo : you will see that this island is 
within the tropics — a very dangerous adventure, therefore, 
for a European, David is a man well calculated for all 
hardship and endurance ; and if fortune be kind — I use the 
word fortune, because Providence may be kind to him although 
he should never return, or return poorer than he went out, 
but fortune is considered to act kindly only when she pros- 
pers a man according to his wishes — if fortune be kind, I 
understand, he may gain one, two, or three thousand by his 
adventure.^ If it be for his own and his family's good, I 
wish he may. He is, with some failings, a very worthy man. 

" I have not been at Moorhouse since about the beginning 
of this year ; but I understand our mother is complaining 
rather more these two or three weeks. I need not tell you 
that you ought to write her a letter — and let it be in a plain 

* His eldest sister. 

f Mr Young died of fever in six days after his landing on St Domingo. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 263 

hand, for which your last to me deserves praise — telling her 
such little particulars about yourself and your neighbour- 
hood as you think may please her ; and not forgetting to 
comfort and cheer her with the substantial comforts of 
religion. She will be greatly amused and heartened by such 
a letter — and age and want of health have need of comfort. 

" With this I send you some coffee, made of malt. It 
cost me only fivepence, and it will serve you a long time. 
Foreign coffee is often mixed and adulterated. One knows 
what he is drinking when he drinks this ; and does not need 
to ask whether the wind blows from Spain or no, when he 
sees the bottom of his canister. I like it well, and so does 
Mr Marr. We owe the knowledge of it to Mr Dobson, a 
curious man you know. With a dry dinner it makes a capi- 
tal beverage. Recipe — three or four large teaspoonfuls, 
boiled fifteen minutes in a coffee pot or pan with three cups 
of water. If you boil it in a pan you must put it thence into 
a tea-pot to separate the grounds. Take along with it plenty 
of milk, or rather cream, if you have it, and sugar ; it needs 
more than tea. Now, after all this, I shall be none surprised 
to hear that you cannot make use of it. But I thoug-ht it 
not right not to send it, as it pleases me. 

" I forget now what I wrote in my last letter to you, but I 
gather from yours, which is in as masterly a style as any 
thing I have got from you, that I have been soaring above 
this world altogether.* But surely I did not mean to leave 

* The passage in my letter to which he alludes may be subjoined 
here : — 

" I am almost ashamed to break in on your studies with such a miscel- 
laneous, business-like letter. But I know your love will at least excuse 
me. Certainly it is worth while, and therefore laudable, to enquire 
after those friends in this world, with whom we hope to spend a happy 



264 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

behind me any thing pure and good. It is, indeed, always 
one of the petitions to the God of my fathers, that I may be 
greatly interested in the concerns and destinies of my fel- 
low-men. 

" The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the 
resurrection — a glorious argument; and if that Divine 
Spirit, who giveth all thought and all utterance, be not 
offended with my prayers, it shall not be ungloriously 
managed. It affords me, besides giving great room to the 
imagination, a plan for the rigid depictment of the characters 
of men at that time when all but character shall have left 
them. I have already, much to my satisfaction, wellnigh 
completed the first book of nearly a thousand verses. When 
I have time, I shall send some of it for your revisal. My 
health stands out pretty well, although it is some days run 
down. 

" I wish you would send me a copy of the lines on 'Envy ;' 
perhaps I may make some use of them. Let me hear from 
you soon ; and may the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ be your counsellor and guide. 

« R. POLLOK." 

In this letter, two expressions require explanation ; namely, 
" The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the 
resurrection," and, " I have wellnigh completed the first 



immortality in the next. I am glad that you have ' weeks of glorious 
study,' and especially that your health permits you to prosecute such 
study. May the Eternal and Infinite Spirit inform your soul with an 
immortal argument, and enable you to conduct it to your own happiness 
in time, and blessedness in eternity ; and to His praise, honour, and glory, 
for ever and ever !" 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 265 

book." The following was given by himself in conversation 
with me, after the poem was written : — 

I would recollect, he said, of leaving Hartley's " Ora- 
tory" with him at the close of the Hall one session, to be 
returned to Mr Hartley, from whom I had had a loan of it. 
Through mistake or neglect, it was taken out, with some 
other books, to Moorhouse, where he read portions of 
it occasionally ; " for it contains," he said, " a selection of 
excellent pieces." By and by, he brought it back to Glas- 
gow, but allowed it to lie for some time beside him before 
returning it. One night in the beginning of December, 
when he was sitting alone in his room in great desolation of 
mind, to turn his thoughts from himself he put his hand 
to the table for a book, and lifted Hartley's " Oratory." He 
opened it at Byron's lines to " Darkness," and read where 
he opened. While he was reading these the resurrec- 
tion was suggested to him ; and it struck him that it 
might be taken for a subject to write on. He instantly 
began to think, and hastily running over in his mind various 
authors who had treated of it, was not satisfied with any of 
them. He thought that something new or different might 
be said on the subject, or, at least, that it might be set in a 
more striking light. A plan occurred to him. He imme- 
diately laid down the book, took up the first pen that he got 
his hands on, and began to write what now forms the second 
paragraph of the seventh book of the poem, commencing, 

" In customed glory bright, that morn the sun 
Rose;" 

and he proceeded till he had upwards of a thousand verses, 
intending the subject of the poem to be the resurrection. 
Soon after completing what was then intended to be the first 



266 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

book, but what is now the seventh of " The Course of Time," 
he removed from Glasgow to Moorhouse, to be beside his 
mother, who was then on her death-bed ; but he still pro- 
secuted the writing of the poem. As he went on, he began 
at intervals to select and arrange materials ; and, in doing 
this, he saw many things that he would like to bring in, that 
would not come in naturally under the subject of the resur- 
rection. He determined, however, to make use of these, 
and either to extend the plan or form a new one altogether. 
In the mean time, thoughts and words poured in on him 
from all quarters ; and he went on writing and selecting. 
One night, by and by, when he was sitting alone, in Moor- 
house old room, letting his mind wander back and forward 
over things at large, in a moment, as if by an immediate 
inspiration, the idea of the poem struck him, and the plan 
of it, as it now stands, stretched out before him ; so that, 
at one glance, he saw through it from end to end like an 
avenue, with the resurrection as only part of the scene. He 
never felt, he said, as he did then ; and he shook from head 
to foot overpowered with feeling ; knowing that " to pursue 
the subject was to have no middle way between great suc- 
cess and great failure." From this time, in selecting and 
arranging materials, he saw through the plan so well, that 
he knew to what book, as he expressed it, " the thoughts 
belonged whenever they set up their heads." But the poem 
wanted a name ; and it was not till after it was written that 
he called it " The Course of Time." 

From the following letter, which he wrote to me in the 
beginning of April, containing what may be called his 
mother's dying advice to him and myself, it will be seen that 
he was continuing busily engaged with his work, and was 
enabled to go on with it : — 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 267 

" Moorhouse, April 4, 1825. 
" Dear Brother, — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me 
to tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. 
She came into the room a few minutes ago with your letter 
in her hand, and wished me to tell you that she had read it 
all over and over again with great satisfaction. She wishes 
to say further that it should be the great business of all, and 
especially of those who profess to teach others, to set forth, 
in their doctrine and conduct, the loveliness, beauty, and con- 
descension of Jesus Christ. ' These,' she says, i are most 
astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels will never be 
able to speak half their praise/ It is her desire that you may 
just, like the old Apostle Paul, ' determine not to know any 
thing,' in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ, and him crucified/ 
She adds, < This is the main thing. Other things are useful ; 
but whoever wants this, I am afraid, his speed will not be 
great. I am extraordinarily pleased that you both seem to 
be sound on this point. I cannot use words sufficient to 
recommend to you the loveliness, beauty, and condescension 
of Christ; but I have thought often about it. That the 
Creator should become man for the sake of sinners ! Surely 
such infinite love will never be manifested again ! Let it be 
the business of your lives to set it forth ; it can never be 
praised enough. It gives me wonderful satisfaction to think, 
that he' — meaning you — 'conducts himself becomingly. I 
wished to say this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I 
think it better that you write it to him, than to wait till he 
come. Perhaps, I might not be able to say it then.' 

" I have given you the above as nearly as possible in my 
mother's own words. 

" Our mother rises generally about twelve or one o'clock 



268 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

noon. She grows weaker, and has little doubt that the time 
of her departure is at hand. She is, indeed, in many respects 
like our uncle David, a few weeks before he died. She speaks 
with the same composure of death, with the same warmth of 
redeeming love, and is very like one whom the great Fore- 
runner will soon receive into the everlasting mansions. 

" She has not been able to read the little book * that I 
sent her last. It is not the tender parts that she is unable 
for, it is the religious sentiments. They agree so with her 
own, and are, she says, so strongly expressed, that they 
penetrate and agitate her so much, that she dare not risk 
her weakness with the reading of them ; but has had to lay 
the book aside after a sentence or two. 

" I am in the very heart of the poem, and greatly upheld. 

" I am happy to tell you that all your friends here keep a 
lively remembrance of you. I shall say no more just now, 
as we expect to see you immediately. 

" If any remember me about your place, wish them happi- 
ness. Mr Marr has no hope of getting the school he spoke 
of. He is at his father's, and has been complaining for some 
weeks. 

" R. Pollok." 

In the middle of May he wrote to me the following letter, 
which shows what progress he had then made in the writing 
of his poem, and how he intended to employ himself for a 
month or two : — 

" Moorhouse, May 14, 1825. 
" Dear Brother, — I expected you to write to me when you 
* " The Persecuted Family." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 269 

got home to Auchindinny ; but I Lave heard neither hilt 
nor hair of you. According to the nature of things, how- 
ever, I suppose you got safely home. 

" Our mother is considerably weaker, and more spent than 
when you were here. The cough is very severe ; the fine- 
ness of the weather seems to bring her no relief. Indeed, 
there is little hope of her recovery. She expects you to write 
to her. The rest of us are well. 

" I have nearly completed a third book of my poem ; and 
I have been, in general, able to please myself. The descrip- 
tion of the good minister I intend to send to you when I shall 
have time to copy it out for you. When the present book is 
finished, I intend to rest a little — perhaps during the two 
summer months, as I find, whenever the weather gets warm, 
my capacity for severe thinking diminishes. I shall correct 
some of what I have written ; and I have, besides, two ser- 
mons to compose, one for the Presbytery and one for the 
Hall, which will employ some of my time. 

" Mr Marr has been at Glasgow and Moorhouse since you 
were here. We had Mr Pollok in the Rev. James Dick- 
son's pulpit, Sabbath was eight-days. He went through 
the business very respectably ; and the people were much 
satisfied. I forgot to say that Mr Marr was pretty well 
when here, although he seemed not entirely clear of his 
complaint. We expect to hear from you soon. 

« R. PoULOK." 

In the beginning of July he sent me the following note, 
announcing his mother's death, and stating how she died : — 



270 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

« Moorhouse, July 4, 1825. 
" Dear Brother, — Last night, a few minutes before mid- 
night, our dear mother departed this life. I can at present 
give you no particulars. I may only say, that she died in 
< the full assurance of hope,' closing her eyes with as much 
calmness and composure as ever she did in the days of her 
health. The funeral is appointed for Tuesday the 8th cur- 
rent. But we expect you to come off as soon as you receive 
this note. 

« R. POLLOK." 

Thus died his mother, to whom, as he acknowledged, he 
owed much. To mention no more, it deserves to be recorded 
here, that he once said to me, in speaking of the theologi- 
cal doctrines in " The Course of Time," after it was written, 
" It has my mother's divinity, the divinity that she taught 
me when I was a boy. I may have amplified it from what 
I learned afterwards ; but in writing the poem I always 
found that hers formed the groundwork, the point from 
which I set out. I always drew on hers first, and I was 
never at a loss. This shows," he added, with devout grati- 
tude, " what kind of a divine she was." 

In the beginning of August he returned once more to the 
Hall, in further prosecution of his theological studies ; and 
his discourse, this session, the text of which was in Heb. vi. 12, 
" Be not slothful, but followers of those who through faith 
and patience inherit the promises " — a text very appropriate 
to him in his circumstances, was what is called technically a 
popular discourse ; and it was much approved of by the Pro- 
fessor. 

Early in the session, it may be mentioned, as showing 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 271 

his respect for Dr Dick, he originated in the Hall, in a 
speech of considerable length, a proposal that the students 
then attending it, should have a portrait of the Professor 
executed by some eminent artist, and placed there ; which, 
proposal met their approbation, and an excellent portrait of 
him was, in pursuance of it, executed by George Watson, 
Esq., Edinburgh. Soon after it was placed in the Hall, 
Robert said to the Professor, in speaking of it comparatively 
with another portrait presented to him, immediately after it, 
by his congregation, taken by Mr Chester Harding, an 
American artist — " It is liker what you appear to us in the 
Hall ; it brings out the literary part of your character 
better." 

Towards the end of the session he made a visit to Loch 
Lomond, accompanied by his relative Mr Campbell, and 
three of his fellow-students, Mr Marr, Mr Borthwick, and 
myself. He sailed up the loch as far as Rob Roy's cave, and 
was much delighted with the magnificent scenery, which he 
said far surpassed his expectation, as indeed no anticipa- 
tion could reach it. 

On returning to the steam-boat which was to convey the 
passengers from Loch Lomond up the Clyde to Glasgow, he 
said to his four companions, " There is a snug little place 
below, let us go down and occupy it, that we may talk toge- 
ther, and turn this day to the best account." We followed 
him to the apartment, and as soon as we had, with consent 
of the steward, secured it to ourselves, he proposed that we 
should each of us give utterance to our feelings, and tell to 
what account we might turn that day. This being ap- 
proved of, it was thought proper to appoint me president 
on the occasion ; and the four rose, in succession, and gave 



272 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

utterance to their feelings, in speeches of considerable length, 
and, doubtless, with felicity and success. 

The chief object that Robert had in view in his speech 
was, after giving a general description of all that he had seen 
that day, and expressing his feelings in regard to it, to de- 
scribe a man of intellectual greatness, and illustrate the ease 
with which he should produce excellence in any depart- 
ment of science. It is not enough, he added in conclusion, 
that the great man produce great effect ; he must produce it 
with ease, and with such ease as to show that he has put forth 
but little of his strength. He must never seem struggling 
below his subject and labouring to reach it; he must always 
appear above his subject, and stooping easily down on it. He 
must not labour from the plain or the lake, up to the top of 
the mountain, and there sit down, fatigued and worn, to take 
a look of what is above him. No ; he must come down from 
a higher region, seat himself on earth's loftiest summit; 
take a survey of all that is below him ; stoop with ease, put 
forth his hand, produce at a touch the most stupendous ef- 
fect, and then retire with dignity to his native heights. 

On arriving at Glasgow I said to him, " Keep in mind 
what you delivered to-night ; it is the best thing that you 
ever did ; do not let it be lost ;" — and he said, " I think it 
is better than any thing that I ever wrote, and I shall try to 
preserve its essence." In short, this speech suggested the 
idea and formed the groundwork of his description of the 
man of intellectual greatness, in the end of the fourth Book 
of " The Course of Time." 

During this session of the Hall he associated freely with 
his fellow-students, and was much respected and esteemed 
among them. The following letter, which he wrote to me 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 273 

in the middle of November, contains an account of himself 
from the close of the Hall to its date, showing- in what 
circumstances he was placed : — 

" Glasgow, Nov. 14, 1825. 
" Dear Brother, — You will think me long in writing, but 
the cause was that till within these few days I had nothing 
to write. I spent my time after you left us in a state of dis- 
tressing hesitation. Whether to stay at Moorhouse or go to 
Glasgow, whether to write something for immediate sale or 
enter upon my old subject — these contrarieties perplexed me. 
But strong inclination and irresistible determined me to my 
former pursuit. Thoughts poured in on all quarters, and I 
have had a week's most prosperous study. This is likely to 
be the last winter that I shall have so much freedom ; and I 
thought it best to have as much of my poem done as possible. 
What is too long laid aside is apt to be forgotten. Besides, 
I consider it as a great duty before me, and I am most 
desirous to have it accomplished. This determination de- 
cides the other difficulty — I must remain at Moorhouse. 
My health is pretty good, and I shall try to study in mode- 
ration. The worst thing is, there is too little company to 
draw me from my own thoughts ; but you must write fre- 
quently and I will answer you punctually, and this will help 
to lighten the time to us both. I pity your solitude. The 
want of literary company is a great evil, but you are better 
situated than I am. 

" You will be writing, or meaning to write some. Time is 
now to us becoming precious. A half year should produce 
much fruit. We have been long cultivating, long acquiring ; 
it is high time to reap the increase. Do not let yourself be 



274 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

low-spirited. * Rejoice evermore/ I had a few days of that 
horror with which I was oppressed autumn was a-year, not 
just so ill, and it is gone. Beware of it, it is a dreadful 
thing. 

" I should like to see a sermon on the text, Eccles. vii. 
16, < Be not righteous over much.' Might you not send me 
a discourse upon it by the new-year ? But if you have a plan 
of study laid down, do not let this interfere with it. 

" I have no news. We are all well. The west country- 
folk are all well, and enquired after you with great kindness. 

" Write as soon as you can, and tell me as much as you 
can. Address to the care of Mr John Forrester, 33, Rose 
Street, Hutchesou-town, and I shall get regularly whatever 
comes. 

" I write by post, because the difference of a single letter 
is trifling. 

" R. POLLOK." 

In these circumstances, with three books of his poem 
written, namely, the seventh, the eighth, and the ninth, and 
after having discontinued it for five months, that is, from the 
end of May till the beginning of November, he resumed the 
writing of it. 

His next letter to me carries forward his history, without 
a break, nearly to the end of January 1826. It shows, in 
affecting detail, in what circumstances he was prosecuting 
his poem, and what progress he was making, expresses his 
own opinion of himself with respect to his qualifications for 
instructing the ignorant, as a minister of the gospel, and 
gives further proof of his interest in his friends. It is as 
follows : — 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 275 

" Glasgow, January 24, 1S26. 
" Dear Brother — No man had ever more to say to another 
man than I have to say to you just now ; but I must content 
myself with saying but little after all. 

" To speak of myself first of all ; I have been at Moor- 
house and in Glasgow, at Moorhouse and in Glasgow again, 
since I saw you ; and I am at this moment, while I write to 
you, at No. 1, Norfolk Court, Laurieston, where I was last 
year. When I wrote to you last I was in Glasgow, although 
I did not say so, for I had then determined to go to Moor- 
house, and I did go ; but the coldness of the weather, and 
the badness of the house, and the heavy pressure of pecuniary 
concerns, when I was surrounded with a thousand thoughts, 
so overpowered my body and mind, that for some weeks I 
stooped down, and the billows passed over me. What I 
suffered in that time, God alone knows ; it was less than I 
deserve, but it was much. But I cannot speak to you by 
writing. My father noticed the fearful and dangerous state 
of my mind, and insisted that I should go to Glasgow, 
hoping that company and better lodging might recover me ; 
and, indeed, although slowly, I did recover, and resumed my 
study. Some weeks passed, however, before I regained con- 
fidence in myself; for I felt as if my mind had been shattered 
to pieces. But I thank God, the Father of spirits, that 
he has again restored me all my intellectual vigour ; and 
although by going to the country at the new-year I caught a 
cold, the effects of which have not entirely left me, I am 
vigorous in mind, and am three hundred verses in a third 
book since I began to study after the Hall. My success in 
the first book of the piece, which is now written, is beyond 
my own expectation. There are some strong descriptions in 



276 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

it ; but you are not to imagine it extraordinary. I rather 
doubt, from your letter, that you overvalue it. 

" Now, be assured of this, that I would send a book or 
two to you with far more pleasure than you would receive 
them; but I have nothing but one copy, and it would be 
risking it imprudently to send it so long a way. You will 
see the possibility of its miscarrying, and the consequent 
irreparable loss — I mean to myself, for I do reckon it 
valuable — and it is perfectly impossible that I can transcribe 
it just now ; neither my health nor my time will permit me. 
I have said this much, that you may acquit me of any shadow 
of blame for not sending you any of the poem at this time. 
I repeat it again, that you may see it is one of the strongest 
motives which impels me to write ; and there are parts of it 
in which I have your gratification before me at the very 
moment I am writing ; but you see plainly that, at present, I 
cannot send any of it. If we are spared, we shall soon meet. 
I cannot finish my poem in less than eight books ; five are 
written. Excuse me for talking so long of myself and the 
subject of my study. 

" I should now like to answer your letter, which I received, 
I think, about a fortnight ago ; but how am I to answer it ? 
You are prosperous in regard to your business, as I learn 
from your letter, and likewise from Mr Campbell, who speaks 
of you most kindly. You lay the difficulties of teaching as 
fully before the mind as they can be laid ; and I am con- 
vinced that they are as you say. But I do not like the reflec- 
tions at the end, although I have made them a hundred times 
myself ; not from the same causes, but from causes equally 
powerful. My manner of thinking and writing — the manner 
I have of generalizing man, unfits me very much for entering 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 277 

into that detail which is necessary for a preacher. Nay, I 
often think, that I could not take interest in many of those 
subjects which it is a minister's most imperative duty to take 
interest in. Now, you have difficulties — your situation has 
disadvantages ; but, permit me to say, it has very great 
advantages too. I mention only that habit of teaching — of 
detailed activity — of instilling knowledge into the unculti- 
vated mind, and of entering heartily into the concerns of 
those around us, which your employment has an irresistible 
tendency to create — which habit, however much you may 
undervalue it, is most essential to the accomplished minister 
of the gospel ; and it is the want of this habit in myself, and 
the difficulty that I should now have in acquiring it, that I 
look upon as one of the greatest impediments in my way to 
usefulness as * an instructor of the ignorant ;' for I fear that 
this shall, for a long time yet, be the great work of the 
minister of Christ. Bu1? I shall say no more, every man must 
decide for himself. And when we have once asked, humbly, 
and resignedly, and devoutly, what our duty is in this world, 
at Him who sees ' the end from the beginning ;* and when 
we have calmly and rationally chosen what we think He 
inclines us to do, we have no reason to consult any longer 
' with flesh and blood.' What is the advice of man, who sees 
so short a way before him ? what is his praise ? what is his 
censure ? To be foolish, in his eyes, may be to fulfil the dic- 
tates of eternal wisdom ; to appear to him to fail, may be to 
be most successful ; and to gain his applause here, may be 
at the expense of a fair reputation in the world that endureth 
for ever. Indeed, what is any wisdom but that which the 
Spirit of God doth impart ? and what is any approbation but 



278 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the approbation of that God who knoweth perfectly the true 
value of every thought, and word, and action, and the conse- 
quences of each for ever and ever ? 

" I have not seen our father since he received your letter, 
but I believe he is well ; and so are all the rest. In the west, 
too, your friends, I believe, are well ; but our little cousin, 
David Dickie, has been removed from this world. After a 
short illness, of what nature I do not remember particularly, 
as I could not go out to the funeral, a closing seized him, 
which soon carried him off. He struggled very much, 1 
heard, towards the end, for he was a strong boy ; but who 
that is born of woman shall fight with death ? His father and 
mother are very much affected ; but you know all that I can 
tell you, and can reflect all that I can reflect. He died about 
ten days ago. 

" Mr C — , as he would tell you, has been much dis- 
appointed in the east. He is now Jiome ; but I fear it shall 
be hard times with him soon. He is much involved, and has 
neither money nor any prospect of gaining any immediately. 
Think of his lovely children and his most amiable of wives — 
for she is truly so — and then, although your difficulties and 
mine be great, let us reflect how much we might yet suffer ! 
* A very wise reflection,' you will say ; so say I ; and it passes 
with me as it passes with you ; for my pecuniary difficulties 
are really so troublesome, that they destroy one half of my 
vigour — so little power has philosophy when she comes with 

an empty hand ! But I am truly sorry for Mr C ■• — ; I 

am truly sorry for his wife. I hope the sea shall be divided 
before him ! 

" I have been rather long in writing after all ; but I was 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLQK. 279 

not the less desirous to hear from you on that account. You 
would be wrong to think so for a moment. I sometimes 
appear careless to my best friends ; but no man has a roomier 
place for them in his heart, and there is no friend on earth 
that I love so much as you. 

" I wish you would write soon. I think I have told you 
my address somewhere in this endless letter. 

" R. POLLOK." 

After the date of this letter, he continued to prosecute the 
writing of his poem till the beginning of March, when he 
thought it necessary, from the state of his health, to discontinue 
it for some time ; so that he was, he confessed, " a little per- 
plexed." But he was neither " comfortless " nor " in despair." 
The sea was beginning to divide before him; and the bright 
cloud of hope shed its cheering beams on the dividing waters, 
lighted the opposite shore, and gilded, in the distance, the 
mountain-tops of the promised land. He saw through the 
opening billows a pathway for his feet ; he rested his eye on 
the distant prospect, and stood still to " see the salvation of 
the Lord." Such was his situation in the beginning of March, 
as the following letter to me will show in detail : — 

" Glasgow, March 3, 1826. 
" Dear Brother, — I received your letter, of date 10th Febru- 
ary, some time ago, and would have written according to your 
request, immediately ; but that I was lying-to as the seamen 
say, in expectation of several letters, which 1 heard were in 
progress towards me, and which were, by my instrumentality, 
to be sent to you. Three of these have arrived, which you 
will receive along with this. Two of them, I perceive, are 



280 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

from new correspondents, and I have no doubt you will be 
greatly pleased to hear from them. 

" I have not been in the country since the commencement 
of the year. By letter, or personal visits, however, I have 
had, since that time, communication with most of my friends. 
Our father, who has had rather a severe cold, is again well ; 
and, I believe, none of them at Moorhouse complain. 

« Mr has been obliged to give up housekeeping ; 

his wife and children have gone to his mother-in-law's, who 
is not very able to keep them; his household furniture has 
been retained by the landlord for arrear-rent, and will, when 

sold, fall far short of clearing the debt. But Mr 

is never without hope. Although he is, at this moment, 
living on the bounty of his friends, he eats and drinks as 
heartily, sleeps as soundly, looks as healthily, and laughs as 
loudly, as ever he did at any period of his life. He sleeps 
with me just now. He has many projects before him ; but 
how many, or which of them, may succeed, would be difficult 
to conjecture. 

" Mr Marr is writing a letter to you at the same table at 
which I write — he will speak for himself; but had I any 
occasion to give you an account of him, I would take a pinion 
from the wing of night, and write dark and gloomy things ; 
— perhaps the man is smiling for all that, inwardly ; but I 
speak merely of his outside. 

" Of myself I have little to say, and that little not very 
pleasant. I have finished, since I began last winter, three 
books of my poem, and find, at present, my health very much 
in need of repair. My breast troubles me — I have just had 
on a blister, and I hope it will do some good. I do not 
intend to write any more for some time, and shall pay every 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 281 

attention to my health. I am dreadfully hunted just now for 
money, and have been threatened with prosecution from 
different quarters. And although my whole debt is not 
much above £20, and although £12 would free me from 
present embarrassment, I have not the means of raising even 
that small sum. Thus menaced with creditors, and scarcely 
able to fly out of their way, I am a little perplexed ; but I 
am labouring to let nothing take so much effect upon my 
spirits as to hurt my health. My present situation, however, 
does not afford the very first accommodation for one just 
come out of a severe mental exertion. The affection you 
show me in your letters comforts me much. Be not trou- 
bled although I still prophesy dark things. My path does, 
indeed, seem at present to be surrounded with difficulties ; 
but you remember that when the sea was before Moses, and 
the Egyptians behind, the Lord opened a way for him. 
Three or four books more will complete my poem. 

" I have copied you a few verses concerning the Bible. 
The young spirit, who meets the old bard in heaven, after 
diverse conversation about man, concludes that the wicked 
could never have done so foolishly if they had known their 
duty. Upon this, the old bard takes occasion to tell him 
they knew their duty perfectly, and in doing this gives a view 
of the Bible. The verses I have sent you are not the best speci- 
men of poetry I could have sent you, but I have chosen them 
that you may see in how short a space I have attempted to 
delineate the essentials of religion ; and that I may have 
your opinion of this very important part of my poem — import- 
ant, both as it concerns myself, the world at large, and 
theological critics, who will, no doubt, quarrel much at this 

2 a 



282 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

place. I have not been conscious of supporting any sect. 
Write soon. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" I must leave Glasgow in the course of two or three 
weeks. I shall, therefore, expect a letter before that time 
expire." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 283 



CHAPTER X. 

In the month of April, for the sake of his health, Robert paid 
me a visit at Auchindinny, and proceeded thence with his 
friend, Mr Campbell, to Dunfermline, where he stayed eight 
or ten days. In the middle of May, having returned to 
Glasgow, he wrote to me regarding himself as follows : — 

" Glasgow, May 18, 1826. 
" Dear Brother, — You have right to be astonished that I 
have been so long in writing to you ; but a series of adverse 
circumstances kept me waiting, from day to day, for better ; 
and yet no better have come. I am in Glasgow, trying to do 
some good, and can do none. My health, although I think 
my constitution still vigorous, is by no means pleasant. My 
spirits, however, are, except at intervals, nowise downcast. 

" I shall try to do what I can to extricate myself from 
this misery. I propose to send the first three books of my 
poem to Edinburgh. Give me your opinion on this. I 
am, &c. 

« R. POLLOK." 

In a few days after receiving this note, I wrote to him 
in answer ; and it seems necessary to insert the following 
part of my letter here, on account of the reference which he 
makes to it afterwards : — 



284 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Auchindinny, May 25, 1826. 
" Dear Brother, — My opinion of publishing the first three 
hooks of your poem, is unaltered, and I believe unalterable. 
Even the stubbornest necessity would not, for aught I yet 
know, extort from me a reluctant consent to their publica- 
tion alone. I would rather write the remaining books in a 
jail, where many a great and good man has written, than 
publish such a work in parts. Sooner would I see a first- 
rate man-of-war taken and launched, plank by plank, on the 
merciless ocean, than see that poem published, book by book, 
to the critic and thankless world. Could you not escape 
away to me, and vigorously prosecute your work to a close ? 
I will get a room for you here, and you can eat with me. 
Notwithstanding, if you see that you cannot, without inju- 
ring your health, go on speedily with the poem, so that the 
immediate publication of the first three books is an absolute 
necessity, I would submit. But you must look away beyond 
the present pressure. The work will, one day, not only 
relieve yourself, but enable you to assist your friends. 

" I have, this instant, resolved to exert myself to the 
utmost to let you get time to finish your poem. Tell me 
how long you think it will take to finish it, without hurting 
your health ; and tell me freely how much you would like 
me to try to raise, and I will raise it, though I should ' stir 
heaven and earth.' For myself I cannot be importunate; 
but when I speak for another, it is impossible to put me off. 
This is no ' South-Sea dream' — it will pay at last. Your 
health is every thing, and the composure of your mind. 
Write the moment you get this. Tell me where you lodge. 

" D. POLLOK." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 285 

Immediately on receiving the above, lie wrote to me the 
following letter, in return, stating his circumstances, and de- 
claring his resolution at the time : — 

" Glasgow, May 28, 1826. 
" Dear Brother, — In this letter I shall endeavour to set 
before you my present circumstances, which will be the best 
answer I can give to the most brotherly and warm-hearted 
letter that ever was written by man. Let me still intreat 
you to beware of overrating my talents. It makes me trem- 
ble lest I should disappoint your hopes. 

" You know that my desire is to finish the poem, in which 
I am engaged, before intermeddling with any other concern. 
But you know also, that to enable me to do this would re- 
quire a considerable quantity of money ; besides, when the 
work is finished, its success, at least as far as money is con- 
cerned, is very uncertain. Now, were I to keep back from 
' holy orders' after so long a preparation, and at the same 
time be gaining nothing, what would be the cry of those 
who already reproach me with my indolence ? My money 
embarrassments, added to these ideas, make it difficult for 
me to pursue a work with calmness and serenity — difficult, 
I say, but not impossible ; for since your letter reached me, 
I have trampled many of those perplexing thoughts beneath 
my feet. It is not the assistance which you meditate, for 
you must not involve yourself on my account, but the spirit 
which it breathes. I feel as if I had all your vigour and 
fortitude added to my own. My resolution was wavering, 
my thoughts were driving at random, and my whole mental 
energies were dispersed and scattered, when your letter, 
like the encouraging voice of a well-known commander, in 



286 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

the hour of doubtful conflict, in a moment, collected the 
scattered and confirmed the wavering, so that I have de- 
termined, as far as my health will permit, calmly to pursue 
my poem ; and, in the strength of God, I hope to com- 
plete it. I did not intend to do any more to it during 
the summer; but you have put me into the spirit, and I 
think I shall be able to finish a book before the Hall. As 
the weather is extremely fine, I shall just remain at Moor- 
house ; and as I am in perfect good spirits, I have no doubt 
that I shall manage well enough. As to the probable time 
that I might take to finish the whole work, I cannot speak 
exactly ; but if all was well, I think it might be finished du- 
ring the ensuing winter. I wrote as much last winter as I 
have now to write. This, then, is my present resolution — I 
shall, if God so assist me, proceed with my poem, keeping 
up at the same time my theological studies, till after the 
Hall, when we shall take counsel of my future proceeding. 

" Remember me to all whom I mentioned in my last let- 
ter. Perhaps you have heard that Mr Hugh Lockhart * is 
gone. About six weeks or two months ago he retired into 
the world of spirits ; and, indeed, was nearly a spirit before 
he set out. I expect to hear from you very soon. 

" R. POLLOK." 

Three days after writing this letter, having six books of 
his poem written, he entered on the writing of it the third 
time. How he proceeded with it, under what circumstances, 
and with what success, the following letter, written to me 
in the beginning of July, will show : — 

* A young gentleman of eminent attainments as a scholar. 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 287 

" Moorhouse, July 7, 1826. 
" Dear Brother, — It is with mucli pleasure that I am now 
able to tell you that I have finished my poem. Since I wrote 
to you last, I have written about three thousand five hundred 
verses; which is considerably more than a hundred every 
successive day. This, you will see, was extraordinary expe- 
dition to be continued so long ; and I neither can nor wish 
to ascribe it to any thing but an extraordinary manifestation 
of Divine goodness. Although some nights I was on the 
borders of fever, I rose every morning equally fresh, without 
one twitch of headache ; and, with all the impatience of a 
lover, hasted to my study. Towards the end of the tenth 
hook — for the whole consists of ten books — where the 
subject was overwhelmingly great, and where I, indeed, 
seemed to write from immediate inspiration, I felt the body 
beginning to give way. But now that I have finished, though 
thin with the great heat, and the almost unintermitted mental 
exercise, I am by no means languishing and feeble. Since 
the 1st of June, which was the day I began to write last, we 
have had a Grecian atmosphere ; and I find the serenity of the 
heavens of incalculable benefit for mental pursuit. And I am 
now convinced that summer is the best season for great men- 
tal exertion; because the heat promotes the circulation of the 
blood, the stagnation of which is the great cause of misery to 
cogitative men. The serenity of mind which I have possessed 
is astonishing. Exalted on my native mountains, and writing 
often on the top of the very highest of them, I proceeded, 
from day to day, as if I had been in a world in which there 
was neither sin, nor sickness, nor poverty. In the four 
books last written, I have succeeded, in almost every instance, 
up to my wishes ; and, in many places, I have exceeded any 



288 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thing that I had conceived. This is not boasting, remem- 
ber. I only say that I have exceeded the degree of excel- 
lence which I had formerly thought of. 

" Thus you see what your last letter has effected ; for had 
it not been it, I believe I should have been standing still 
where it found me ; so that I look upon it — I mean the 
coming of your letter — as being, in the hand of Providence, 
the most fortunate and happy occurrence of my life. 

" If we be all well, my poem may be ready for the press 
soon after the New- Year, which is the best time for publi- 
cation. 

" Thus has it gone with me and my pursuits ; every thing 
has favoured me. But the same weather, which has been of 
such incalculable advantage to me, has, in a great measure, 
destroyed the hopes of the husbandman : the crops look ill, 
and the pasture -grounds are browner than in winter. 

" I beg your pardon, but I must say a little more about 
myself: how I shall get on, or whether get to the Hall or 
not, I do not see just now. If some person do not do some- 
thing for me, it is plain I cannot get to the Hall. But let 
the result be what it may, if God grant me health, I shall, 
after a few weeks' rest, begin to correct and copy out my 
work. 

" I have heard nothing of Mr Campbell, further than that, 
after a long contest, lie has got Dunfermline drawing aca- 
demy. Mr Pollok, who slept with me last night, is called to 
Buckhaven, in Fife — a pretty good place. Marr tells me 
he has opened an academy at Auchmillan of thirteen pupils. 
We are all well. 

" I wish you would come home as soon as possible, as I shall 
need you somewhat in the correction. I suppose my poem is 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 289 

not shorter than ' Young's Night Thoughts.' It will take a 
good deal of labour to re-write it. 

" Remember me to any whom you think worthy. Let me 
hear from you directly ; and tell me what day I may expect 
you home. If you leave Auchindinny on the 1st of August,. 
we may have a fortnight to spend at Moorhouse before the 
Hall. 

" R. POLLOK." 

Thus he finished " The Course of Time" in the begin- 
ning of July 1826, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, nine- \y 
teen months after he began its execution. He was not, 
however, employed all that time in writing it. It was com- 
posed, as his letters respecting it show, at three different 
periods, with considerable intervals between them ; and all 
the three make together only eleven months. Besides, he 
once told me that he kept an account of the time, and that 
he was engaged in actual writing eight months. 

With regard to his habits in composing it, they were nei- 
ther numerous nor anywise very remarkable ; but it seems 
proper to give the following short account of them, taken 
from his conversation : — 

During the three periods of writing, he kept a small jot- 
book beside him, and whenever any thing occurred to him 
which he thought fit for any part of the work, he jotted it down 
sometimes with pen and ink, and sometimes with a black- 
lead pencil. Every time that he sat down to write, he 
looked over these jottings to see if there were any materials 
among them for his present purpose ; and when he had used, 
or rejected any thing, he drew his pen through it. Ge- 
nerally, he composed mentally, sometimes a few verses, and 

2b 



290 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE, 

sometimes a paragraph or two, according to circumstances ; 
and he did this at all times and in all places, but chiefly in bed. 
He once remarked to me, " People say a man can do nothing 
lying in bed ; but something may be done in it. The truth 
is, most of ' The Course of Time' was composed in bed." 
He usually wrote two or three hours at a sitting, and then 
went out to take the air, or engaged with his friends in 
lively conversation, to relax his mind ; and whenever he felt 
himself refreshed he resumed his study. He seldom sat 
later than eleven or twelve o'clock; but he generally lay 
awake a good part of the night, letting his mind wander 
over his subject, thinking and composing. When he came 
to a new paragraph, he concentrated his energies on it, as 
if it had been the only thing that he had ever written, or 
that he should ever write ; so that, as he said, " every para- 
graph might stand by itself, without needing support from 
what went before or came after." He never stopped at a 
difficult place, but took good care to pause where he knew 
he could easily go on, so that it might always be pleasant 
for him to sit down to write. When he wrote at Moor- 
house, he read at night to his brother John what he had writ- 
ten in the course of the day, and heard his opinion of it. 
While composing there the four books last written, though he 
went every Sabbath to church, he wrote, as he expressed it, 
" Sabbath and Saturday :" in going to and from church, on 
the sublime regions between Moorhouse and Eaglesham, he 
composed, as he thought he could not be better employed, the 
usual number of verses ; and on returning home, to secure 
them, he wrote them down. During the whole process 
he read little English, as it did not sufficiently arrest his 
attention, or withdraw his thoughts from himself; but he 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 291 

occasionally read Latin and Greek for amusement or relaxa- 
tion ; and he found the most difficult that he met with a 
great recreation compared with the writing of the poem, in 
which his mind, through vigour of exertion, many a time 
nearly overpowered his body. He kept the Bible constantly 
beside him, and read in different places of it, according to 
the nature of what he was composing ; so that his mind, it 
may be said, was all along regulated by the Bible. Finally, 
he prayed to God daily, morning and evening, for direction 
and assistance in the work. 

As this was his last poetical composition, it will be proper 
now to give some account of the poetry which he produced 
between 1820 and the beginning of December 1824; and a 
very few words will suffice for that purpose. It consists of 
fifty pieces, of which forty are in rhyme, and the rest in 
blank verse. One of them is inserted above, and upwards 
of twenty of them are annexed to the Life. It may be men- 
tioned that these ten pieces in blank verse, along with the 
two which he wrote before 1821, make together nine hun- 
dred and thirty-two verses, being the whole of his compo- 
sitions of that kind before he began to write " The Course 
of Time." 

Early in 1826, he began his second and last commonplace- 
book ; but only the first eleven pages have been used as such, 
the rest of it being filled with jottings for " The Course 
of Time." The contents of these eleven pages it seems 
proper to insert here, as, for various reasons, they, may be 
interesting to the reader* For several years before this, in 
reading the different philosophical writers, ancient and modern, 
he had been strongly impressed with the idea that they showed 
less judgment, and displayed far more imagination,, than poets; 



292 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

and he had determined to write a book, as he ironically said, 
" taking the palm of imagination from the poets and giving 
it to the philosophers." To this subject nearly the whole of 
the entries on these pages relate, and they are most character- 
istically expressed. Besides mentioning a- number of the 
authors with whom he was conversant, they furnish a speci- 
men of his way of recording his opinion of books, and show 
the workings of his mind, the first risings of his thoughts, 
in the privacy of his thinking. It may be remarked, that 
the last three of them are jottings for " The Course of Time, " 
that have not been scored out. The whole, with the title 
and date, are as follow : — 

" C0MMONPEACE-B0OK, 1826. 

" Where can the mind riot in a finer and richer field of 
imagination than that displayed by the philosophy of repro- 
duction ? Hippocrates, Aristotle, Plato, Galen, Harvey, 
Descartes, Malpighi, Valisniers, De Graff, Buffon, and 
many others, notable both in ancient and modern times, 
with a lofty and creative fancy that leaves the powers of the 
understanding infinitely behind, have given to the human 
race the vermicular, the ovular, and the living organic par- 
ticle system — a present which the most vigorous imagination 
only could have made, and which the lovers of the works of 
fancy shall for ever look on with wonder and veneration. 
Nor can we, in this place, avoid particularizing the descrip- 
tion of the formation of the foetus by the Count de Buffon — a 
piece of purer fancy, and more independent of the judgment, 
than any poet ever produced. His astonishing fancy, operating 
like the spell of the great English enchanter, speaks the word, 
and instantly the living organic particles, collecting and troop- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 293 

ing from all parts of the parent bodies, meet together. 
What hurry ! what confusion ! and with what admirable 
art does he settle them, at last, into their respective places ! 
What was heart of the parents becomes heart again in the 
little man — what was brain, brain — what was eye, eye — and 
so on, in the most delightful order of creative genius. 

" Fish, perhaps from the softness of their parts, live to a 
immense old age. Leuwenhoek affirmed them to be im- 
mortal. 

" Simpson, Halley, Kersboom, Grant, St Maur, &c, have 
given tables of the mortality of the human species. 

" The great age of the antediluvians, according to Buf- 
fon, might be accounted for by the softness of the earth at 
the time, arising from gravity having not yet sufficiently hard- 
ened it. About David's time it reached its maximum den- 
sity. 

" Winston, John Woodward, Burnet, Bocquet, Leibnitz, 
M. Scheuchzer, Buffon, have given theories of the earth 
which are, in general, pieces of pure, and even extravagant 
imagination. It is very strange that Buffon, who seems to have 
given some attention to the rational parts of his readers, 
should have satisfied himself with endeavouring to prove, 
that the planets were driven off from the sun by the stroke 
of comets, without enquiring whence came these comets, 
and what gave them their motions. If the impulse which 
gave them their various motions originated immediately from 
God, might not the projectile impulse of the earth and the 
other planets spring from the same cause ? 

" J. P. Rabaut de Saint Etienne. < History of the Revo- 
lution in France.' A well-written book. The hurry and 



294 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

commotion of popular passion and popular fury are well imi- 
tated in the rapidity of the narration. The causes of the 
Revolution are correctly ascertained, the characteristic vola- 
tility of the French is well marked, and the proceedings of 
the National Convention are powerfully and warmly depicted. 
But M. Rabaut, like many of his contemporaries, was drunk 
with the spirit of liberty and equality, and he therefore runs 
into such an excess of imaginary effects, that, did we not 
make allowance for the insane heat of a Gallic philosophic 
fancy, we would certainly discredit the whole production. 

" Mirabeau was one of the most illustrious speakers in the 
National Convention. 

" Rabaut. — A hundred thousand maladies of human na- 
ture. Power, or the desire of having inferiors, one of 
them. 

" Philosophic politicians have shown more fancy than 
judgment. The French Revolution produced ten thousand 
pamphlets of political speculation by name, but in their true 
nature pure fancy. 

" * The Religion of the Ancient Greeks, illustrated by an 
explanation of their Mythology. By M. Le Clerc de Sept- 
chenes, Secretaire du Cabinet du Roi.' 

" This work is written in an elegant style, and evinces a 
wide range of observation, and a masterly selection of the 
striking features of his subject. It has less of the puerile 
heat and fond apostrophe than is to be found in many of the 
works of Le Clerc's countrymen, and more sense than is to 
be gathered from most productions on the same subject. He 
divides the heathen gods into three classes — the first, repre- 
senting the principles of things ; the second, the phenomena 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 295 

of nature ; and the third, the objects relative to man. These 
were all either the Deity, or proceeded from him, and were 
still occupied by him. When, therefore, the ancients wor- 
shipped the heavenly bodies, the seasons, the virtue of men, 
and so on, they only worshipped different manifestations of 
the first cause, and were therefore, concludes M. Le Clerc, 
not guilty of idolatry. The author's opinion of the ancient 
religion is far too high ; and had ho not borrowed from the 
Christian stores, which he seems to look upon as filled from 
the same sources as paganism, he could not have succeeded 
in giving such a sublime account of the ancient religion of 
the Greeks. When he is lamenting how much Christianity, 
which according to Bayle and Rousseau inculcates igno- 
rance, shackles and interrupts the progress of the human 
mind, he kindles into true Gallic rapture at the idea of the 
freedom with which men, under the pagan religion, could 
speak and write. But he should have remembered that he 
himself had told us, with what caution philosophers were 
compelled to speak of the religion of the state ; and when he 
spoke of Galileo falling a victim to Christianity — which, how- 
ever, is a lie * — he ought to have remembered Socrates, who 
bled on the altar of heathenism. 

" At the end of his work, Le Clerc gives an account of 
the opinions of many authors who have written on the same 
subject. 

" On the subject of the heathen mythology, philosophic 
fancy is richly displayed. Systems numerous and contra- 
dictory. (A legitimate subject for satire.) 

* " The philosophers of France have mostly formed their estimate of 
Christianity from the Pope's exhibition of it, and not from the sacred books 
in which its doctrines are recorded," 



296 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" M. Le Clerc very well observes, that a romance has at 
least one object ; but what is to be said of a country which 
never existed, and of a period of which the remembrance is 
annihilated ? 

" Olaus Rudbeck, born in Sweden, makes his country the 
birth-place of the human race. M. Bailly places it in Spitz- 
bergen, Greenland, and Nova Zembla. 

" Diodorus Siculus, Le Clerc, Jacob Bryant, Blackwell, 
Jabloniski, M. Gebeelin, M. Dupuis, Meursius, and half 
a hundred, M- l'Abbe Banier, Bergier, Mignots, and 
Pluche, have written on the heathen mythology. Some of 
these authors originate all the gods from agriculture ; some 
from marshes, lakes, hills, and so forth ; some from towers ; 
some from the flood ; some from Noah's ark ; some from the 
heavenly bodies, and the revolution of the seasons ; some from 
heroes, and so on, ad infinitum. 

" The ancient poets, who related the fictitious adventures of 
their gods, have shown less imagination than modern philoso- 
phers, who have endeavoured to explain these brilliant fictions. 

" The Chaldean philosophy, Zoroaster, Plutarch, and Vi- 
truvius inform us, maintains that, when all the planets shall 
meet in Cancer, the world shall be burned ; when in Capri- 
corn, inundated. 

" From the Persian philosophy we learn, on the authority 
of Theopompus, that the good spirit or god Oromasdes, and 
the evil, Arimanius, shall subdue and be subdued alternately 
for six thousand years; but that, at last, the evil principle 
shall perish, and men shall live in happiness, neither needing 
food, nor yielding a shadow. Mithros, supreme god. Zer- 
dusht, the Persian Zoroaster. 

" Mr Locke says, ' But this I am sure — whoever will lend 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 297 

an ear to all who tell them they are out of the way, will not 
have much time for any other business.' 

" People cut off in the midst of their days — high-reaching 
after noble deeds — saw now endless days before them to pur- 
sue all glorious things. 

" Of primeval simplicity and happiness — utter nonsense, 
the first family as wicked as any that followed it — Adam and 
Eve broke the covenant — Cain murdered his brother," 

To the contents of these pages of his last commonplace- 
book, may be added the contents of as many more, which he 
has written, partly before, and partly about the same time, 
among his French exereises, in a sort of miscellaneous com- 
monplace jot-book, without date. They consist of facts and 
extracts from his reading, and of jottings for " The Course 
of Time,'' some of which have been used in it, and some not ; 
but all of which are left as they were written, without being 
scored out. The facts and extracts show what kind of things 
he thought it worth while to take down in his reading; 
and the jottings admit us into the presence-chamber of his 
thoughts, to see them as they arise, unconnected, unclothed, 
and unadorned with words. They follow in the order in 
which they stand in his manuscript. 

" Ideas to be Dilated. 

" From the banks of the Amazon and Niger, &c, the cro- 
codile ; and from the forests the lion, &c, and other desolating 
animals, driven. Some great animals already thought extinct. 

" The tiger parched with an almost perpetual thirst. 

" The name Slave-coast a disgrace to mankind, and in 
future times to be disused and forgotten. 



298 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Marcus Scarus, at Rome, produced the greatest shows of 
fighting wi]d-beasts, and was, therefore, counted the best 
citizen. 

" The fetor of the serpent said ,to poison the air — Like a 
glander. The mucus of the serpent it spreads over the body 
before it swallows it. The worst men have often to give 
something before they manage their arts of destruction. 

" The serpent preys upon all animals — Men striving for a 
place or a pension, like the wild beasts of the desert about 
some summer brook or lake — The great serpent the most for- 
midable — Thegreat bad man compared to a serpent, to which 
he is the likest of all beasts of the field — The worshipping of 
serpents as in the kingdom of Widah, and of other beasts in 
this and that place. 

" When we walk the waste-places alone, and reason with 
ourselves, and think of immortality, we feel a proof within 
us of a future, fairer, kinder land, which all the dark, meta- 
physic, plodding sons of Byron can never outreason, 

" The great man, who, after many changes and great 
efforts, dies just when he has reached his desired glory, com- 
pared to the ephemera, which lives, only a few hours after it 
is adorned with all its wings and accoutrements. 

" The migrating bird flies on till it finds the climate to 
answer it, following the air, compared to the man who acts 
from feeling. 

* l Come, all ye wolves, come on the fiend that buys 
And sells the flesh and blood of fellow-man, 
As once upon the youthful brutal tribes 
Who offered insult to the man of God, 
Elisha, when he journeyed to the gate 
Of 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 299 

" The Indian bees hum themselves asleep, at eve, in the 
blue blossoms of the nilica or sephalica. Sir W. Jones. 

" Zulieka, Potiphar's wife. 

" Mahomet added a new chapter to the Koran to justify 
his loves with the Coptic girl, Mary. 

" The nyctanthes sorrowful spreads its fragrance after dusk. 

" Locust-bird follows the water taken from the bird-foun- 
tain between Shiraz and Ispahan. 

" Into the Caspian, a long way, the rivers often run, burn- 
ing with naphtha. Han way. 

" Dives, demons of the Persian mythology. 

" Israfil, the Indian angel of music. 

" The Alma-tree — buds, blossom, and fruit all at once. 
Nieuhoff. 

" Cities of the silent — Cemeteries, called so in some places 
of the east. 

" Nile — called by the Abyssinians the Abey or giant, 

" Sultanna — a bird which obtained its name from its 
splendid and stately beauty — seen often on the Greek and 
Roman temples and palaces. Sonnini. 

" The Nucta — a miraculous drop which, falling in Egypt 
on St John's day, is said to stop the plague. 

" The Tooba-tree — in the palaces heavenly of Mahomet. 

" The Banyans have an hospital for cows, sheep, &c. &c. 
&c. Parson's Travels. 

" The maids in the east, when their lovers are absent in 
dangerous adventures, light a lamp, place it in a vessel sur- 
rounded with flowers, and commit it to the stream — if the 
light instantly expires, little hope of return — if it burns 
away down the river, return certain. Great numbers of 
these vessels of hope seen sometimes at night on the Ganges. 



300 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. 

" The blue-campaka — Thought by the Bramins to be found 
only in Paradise. 

" The Huma — an Eastern bird said to fly always in the 
air. 

" The Maldivians send a boat annually to sea, filled with 
all delightful flowers and odours, as an offering to the King 
of the sea. 

" In some places of the east, where a man has been devour- 
ed with a tiger, a bamboo-staff is set up with a white flag. 

" The Biajus — wandering water-gipsies on the eastern 
ocean, follow the summer from island to island. To the god 
of evil they offer a boat, full of the sins and misfortunes of 
the nation, which, they believe, fall on the first the boat meets. 

" Friends, cradled, nursed, and matured together — separ- 
ated then, and meeting in old age — Like two drops, sprung 
from the same fount, dancing hand in hand down the stream, 
till a rock separates and sends them into different seas — 
when long tossed among unkindred drops, they at last meet 
— but their freshness and sweetness gone. 

" Spices. 

" At the funeral of Sylla, two hundred and ten burdens of 
spices were strewed upon the pile. 

" Nero was reported to have burned a quantity of cinnamon 
and cassia at the funeral of Dappcea, greater than the coun- 
tries from which it was imported produced in one year. 

" Julius Caesar presented Servilia, the mother of Brutus, 
with a pearl for which he paid £48,457. The famous pearl 
ear-rings of Cleopatra £161,458. 

" Elagabalus introduced the use of silk among the men at 
Rome — a prodigal. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 301 

" Ptolemy, the first who described the earth by longitude 
and latitude, derived the idea from a work of Hipparchus. 

" Under Justinian lived one Cosmas, an Egyptian mer- 
chant, surnamed, from his trading to India, Indicopleustes : 
having assumed at last the monastic character, in the soli- 
tude of his cell he composed several works, one of which, 
dignified by the name of ' Christian Topography,' has reached 
us. The main design of it is to combat the opinions of those 
philosophers who maintain the earth to be of a spherical 
figure ; and to prove that it is an oblong plane, twelve thou- 
sand miles in length from east to west, and six thousand in 
breadth from north to south, surrounded by high walls, 
covered with the firmament as with a canopy or vault ; and 
that day and night are occasioned by a mountain of great 
height, situated at the extremities of the north, round which 
the sun moves : he had a great regard for truth. 

" A. D. 551, two Persian monks, missionaries to India, 
brought the eggs of the silkworm to Justinian, emperor of 
Constantinople. They were hatched in a dunghill ; and 
from them proceeded all the insects of that kind in Europe. 
— Cosmas. ' 

" Cosmo di Medici, the head of a family which rose from 
obscurity by its success in trade, was reckoned the most 
wealthy merchant ever known in Europe. 

" The ' Mahabarat.' — An Indian poem, containing upwards 
of four hundred thousand lines. Part of it translated by 
Wilkins. The subject of the poem is a famous war between 
two branches of the royal family of Bhaurat. 

" * In thy passage over this earth,' says Cana to Sacontala, 
in that Indian play, ' where the paths are now high, now low, 
and the true path seldom distinguished, the traces of thy 



302 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

feet must needs be unequal ; but virtue will press thee right 
onward.' 

" Sentiments of the Bramins concerning the Soul. 
From the Mahabarat. 

" ' Some regard the soulas a wonder, others hear of it 
with astonishment ; but no one knoweth it. The weapon 
divideth it not ; the fire burneth it not ; the water corrupteth 
it not ; the wind driveth it not away : for it is indivisible, in- 
consumable, incorruptible ; it is eternal, universal, permanent, 
immovable ; it is invisible, inconceivable, and unalterable.' 

* Morality. From the same Poem. 

" * The man is praised who, having subdued all his passions, 
performeth with his active faculties all the functions of life, 
unconcerned about the event. Let the motive be in the deed, 
and not in the event. Be not one whose motive for action 
is the hope of reward.' 

w Vishnou. — The Indian god who, according to Bramin 
theology, has come often to earth to suppress wickedness. 

" c It is impossible to conduct women and the gross mul- 
titude, and render them holy, pious, and upright, by the pre- 
cepts of philosophy. Superstition and the fear of the gods 
must be called in, which is founded on fiction and prodigies.' 
Strabo. 

" In India, between Lahore in the Panjab and Agra, there 
is all the way, a distance of five hundred miles, a row of 
shady trees. 

" Ideas to be Dilated. 
" Now fancy hath come in from her flight — memory hath 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 303 

given 5 up her trust — what was vigorous hath become weak — 
what was cheerful dull, what was quick-sighted and discur- 
sive, dim, wavering, and inactive. 

<* The bad effects of indecision on a man of learning. 

" The struggles of genius with temptation. 

" All descriptive and moral thought expressed in the English 
language, is to be found most beautifully and most power- 
fully brought out in blank verse. The loss of the English 
blank verse would do our polite literature infinitely more harm 
than the loss of all our rhyme. It is blank verse, not rhyme, 
in which the British muse soars high above the other nations 
of modern Europe, and perches on the heights of immortality, 
where the Grecian and Roman muses receive her as an equal. 

" dissipation in last extreme — spirits of the just — 

angels. 

" ' How he should be truly eloquent who is not withal a 
good man, I see not.' — Milton."* 

After finishing " The Course of Time," he kept no note- 
book of any kind whatever, so that it seems proper here to give 
a summary account of all his notes that are preserved. They 
compose thirty-two thin octavo volumes, and contain upwards 
of seven hundred pages. They consist of facts and extracts 
from his reading, of outlines of the Professors' lectures at 
college, and of records of his thoughts; the first filling nearly 
two hundred pages, the second upwards of four hundred, and 
the last about a hundred. They were all written between the 

* This extract from Milton, which is followed in his note-book by 
twelve blank leaves, and on which he has closed the book before the 
ink was dry, was in all probability, as appears from the handwriting and 
other circumstances, the last extract that he ever put on paper. 



304 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 

twenty-first and twenty-ninth year of his age. As a whole, 
they show, more than any thing else that he has written, the 
variety and extent of his reading, the closeness of his atten- 
tion to authors, and the pains which he has taken to acquire 
knowledge and collect materials for writing. 

In August, a month after he finished " The Course of 
Time," he returned to the Hall to complete his theological 
studies there. His discourse, this session, was a dissertation 
on the Fall of Man, the text of which was Gen. iii. 4, 5, 6 ; 
and it received the marked approbation of the Professor. It 
was, he said, just what a dissertation of the kind ought to be. 

This session he attended, more frequently than he had 
done hitherto, the meetings of the Students' Society, and 
took a more active and prominent part in the business and 
discussions at these meetings ; became extensively acquainted 
with his fellow-students ; and left the Hall with their re- 
spect, esteem, and love. 

At my request, the Rev. Dr David King, minister of the 
United Secession congregation, Greyfriars, Glasgow, has 
kindly favoured me with a letter, giving me some of his Hall 
recollections of him, with permission to insert them in their 
proper places in his Life. The first part of the doctor's 
letter relates to his standing as a theological student, and to 
the appearances which he made in the debates or discus- 
sions in the Students' Society during his last session. It is 
as follows : — 

" Harrowgate,* April 5, 1840. 
tl My Dear Sir — I take my pen in hand to give you, as you 

* Dr King was on a -visit at Harrowgate when he wrote the letter. 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 305 

requested, some Hall recollections of your lamented brother, 
Mr Robert Pollok. Not having enjoyed much of his inti- 
mate friendship, my remarks must be, on that account, the 
more general, and, I fear, the less interesting. 

" His standing as a theological student was not incon- 
gruous with his subsequent success as a Christian poet. 
That his poetical powers were then fully appreciated, or the 
fame since won by his genius distinctly foreseen, it would 
be unguarded to allege. But the discovery of his capabilities 
was not so very sudden, nor did the splendour of their achieve- 
ments take his fellow- students so much by surprise, as is apt 
in these cases to be averred, sometimes from a love of the 
marvellous, and sometimes in disparagement of the particular 
circle or denomination by which distinguished merit is sup- 
posed to have been overlooked. In testifying to the esteem 
in which he was then held, I do not allude so much to the 
discourses which he delivered before our revered Professor; 
for though they were undoubtedly respectable, I do not 
know that they would, of themselves, have secured a general 
and abiding impression of his decided superiority. I refer 
especially to the appearances which he made in our Students' 
Society. Your readers must be made aware, that the stu- 
dents of our religious body were then in the practice of meeting 
together, apart from the regular class-hours, to deliver theo- 
logical exercises, and also to transact business connected with 
the library, and other matters entrusted to their care, out 
of which engagements arose questions, not very important 
in themselves or to the eye of a stranger, but quite sufficient 
to bestir youthful ardour and emulation, and to occasion 
debates as animated as if the being of the Hall or the prospects 

of the church had been staked on the result. 

2c 



306 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" In these debates your brother took little part till he 
entered on the last session of his theological course ; and 
during that session he engaged in them with a zealous in- 
terest, not to have been expected from his previous reserve. 
His ability as a speaker at once obtained for him admiration 
and influence ; and those who did not concur in his senti- 
ments on the particular points discussed, generally acknow- 
ledged the tact and force with which they had been advo- 
cated. In speaking, however, he was not always prompt in 
expression. He had nothing of that sparkling cleverness 
which is sometimes as telling in debate as more substantial 
properties. Occasionally he halted in a sentence as if still 
excogitating materials of reply from his mental resources, 
or as if he were consciously in possession of important prin- 
ciples to which he was unwilling to do injustice by an imper- 
fect utterance of them, 

" These disadvantages were counterbalanced by the power- 
ful grasp he took of bis subject, and also by the cogency with 
which he presented his views of it to others. His manner 
itself, if not characterized by the lighter graces of a fluent 
oratory, was exceedingly energetic. The expression of his 
countenance was earnest and commanding ; his voice was an 
appropriate vehicle for the intenser emotions ; and there was 
a power in his eye, which I do not remember to have seen 
equalled — especially when he became indignant at statements 
w r hich he disrelished ; and he seemed to rouse his energies, as 
if by a determined effort, to bear down opposition. Of course, 
it was only at times that such qualities could develope them- 
selves ; and on ordinary occasions he made no superfluous 
displays, but spoke with a natural unpretending propriety, 
Indeed, his whole style of speaking was very evidently his 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 307 

own, having nothing of the assumed or artificial about it ; 
and exhibited equally the impress of nature, whether, as cir- 
cumstances varied, it partook more of the tranquil or the 
impassioned. On a general view, I have no hesitation in 
saying that he possessed high qualifications as a debater ; and 
that, if he had been spared in the dispensations of Divine Pro- 
vidence, there is every reason to believe he would have been 
eminently useful both in addressing public assemblies, and in 
aiding the deliberations of the church." 

During his course of theological study, he wrote two ser- 
mons for the pulpit. The following are their texts : 1 Kings, 
xviii. 21, " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, 
then follow him;" and 1 Pet. ii. 17, " Fear God." 

The occasion of writing on the first of these texts 
was somewhat interesting, and seems worthy of notice 
here. One day when he and Mr Marr were taking a walk 
together at Moorhouse, after having spent several days there 
in recreation, being in a curious thoughtful state of mind, 
and talking a word, now and then, about preaching and mak- 
ing discourses for the pulpit, they agreed to give one another 
a text, and not to leave the house again till each of them 
wrote a sermon. Robert then gave Mr Marr the following 
words in Psalm xciii. 5 — ~" Holiness becometh thy house, O 
Lord, for ever ; " and Mr Marr gave Robert these words in 
1 Kings xviii. 21 — " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if 
Baal, then follow him." On returning to the house they sat 
down together at the same table, and wrote each a sermon 
on his text according to agreement. Robert wrote his at 
two sittings — the one of two hours and the other of three ; 
and he never transcribed it. 



308 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

During the five sessions that he studied at the Hall, and 
the four winters that he passed in Glasgow in the course of 
his theological studies, he usually attended sermon in Grey- 
friars' church, where his venerated Professor, Dr Dick, was 
minister; and it may be mentioned that, so far as I am 
aware, he was known to only one member of the doctor's 
congregation. This was one of the elders, Robert Hood, 
Esq., who was introduced to him by the Rev. James Dick- 
son, Eaglesham ; and was, so far as 1 know, the only wealthy 
influential citizen of Glasgow with whom he formed an 
acquaintance. Indeed, he knew only two or three families in 
the whole city. 

It seems proper to conclude this chapter with some mis- 
cellaneous remarks, relative chiefly to his habits and manners. 

From his boyhood up to the finishing of his studies at the 
Hall, he played occasionally at the game of draughts, and 
was reckoned a superior player. After his second session at 
college, he and his friend Mr Marr sometimes played to- 
gether ; and their games, as Robert once told me, being deep 
and carefully managed, required great thinking, and strength- 
ened and sharpened the mind. 

His manners were easy, natural, and unaffected, possess- 
ing, like his character, great variety. He had no eccentricities 
of any kind ; and, however deeply engaged in study, was never 
absent or abstracted. His brother John says, " I often went in 
to him when he was writing ' The Course of Time ;' and he 
spoke to me whenever I went in, and began to talk just as if he 
had not been thinking ; nor did he ever seem to be busy, 
but had always leisure to do any thing." He was generally 
frank, open, and affable ; but to those who were inquisitive 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 309 

and encroaching, especially if they were wealthy or literary 
individuals, he was not only distant and reserved, but utterly 
inaccessible. 

In company he was lively and cheerful, equable in tem- 
perament, humorous, jocular, and satirical ; a free ready 
talker, and unequalled at repartee and banter. When he 
was much opposed in argument, and found his opponent 
troublesome, he suddenly became silent, drew himself forward 
on the chair, and, looking his opponent commandingly in the 
face, uttered something strong and expressive, which put an 
end to opposition. 

His conversational powers were equal to his talents for 
writing ; and, though he sometimes talked nonsense in joke, 
he was always amusing and instructive. It was said of him, 
that there was " sense in his nonsense," and that it required 
great talent to talk it as well as he did. 

He was never trifling either in his conversations or in his 
amusements ; but had always something in view which he 
was eager to attain or accomplish. Notwithstanding he was 
a hearty laugher, he was remarkable for command of his 
risible faculties ; and when he did not want to laugh, nothing 
whatever could, in the slightest degree, discompose his 
gravity. When he was speaking satirically, he generally 
looked quite grave and serious ; so that it was impossible to 
know that he was not in earnest, except by previously know- 
ing his principles or his opinions ; and very few knew him so 
well as to be able to say at all times whether he was in jest 
or earnest. 

If he saw that any one had rashly and unreasonably formed 
an erroneous opinion of him, instead of doing any thing to 



310 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

correct it, he was sure, by words, looks, or tones of voice, to 
confirm the person in it. Of this the following instance may 
be given : — On being introduced by me, on one of his visits 
at Auchindinny, to a family, composed at the time of a 
mother and two or three grown-up daughters, he took his 
seat beside the latter, began to talk to them in a jocular 
way, spoke of laughing as a good thing, and said he often 
laughed himself. On this, the old woman, who had been 
previously talking to me, looked at him gravely, and said 
slowly and plaintively, speaking in the Scottish dialect, 
" Ye'll no aye laugh." He instantly stopped speaking, 
turned round towards her, and, looking her seriously in 
the face, said cautiously and considerately, " No, Ma'am ; I 
think I have sometimes been half an hour at a time without 
laughing." " Ay," replied the good old woman, shaking her 
head and sighing, " ay, stop till ye come my length, an' ye'll 
be langer * at a time ' without laughing." It may be added, 
that, not long afterwards, the old lady, on reading his " Tales 
for Youth," told me she thought he was a heedless young 
man who would never think any ; and apologized for having 
formed such an opinion of him. 

One of the most remarkable things about him., next to the 
facility with which he wrote, was the rapidity with which 
he acquired knowledge, together with the extent of informa« 
tion which he derived from a few principles or facts. If he 
glanced at the subject of a book, or heard it referred to in 
conversation, he seemed to be master of it, and could talk 
or write on it with intelligence and perspicuity. 

It may be mentioned, in conclusion, that he had neither a 
good musical ear nor a good voice for singing ; so that he 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 311 

seldom attempted to sing", and acquired only two or three 
tunes of sacred music, one of which was St Neot's, which 
he uniformly sang when he had occasion to lead psalmody in 
family worship 



312 THE LIFE OE ROBERT POLLOK. 



CHAPTER XI. 

In the beginning of October, having finished the usual course 
of study at the Hall, Robert left it to transcribe " The 
Course of Time," in order to have it ready for the press by 
New- Year's Day. For this purpose he went to Dunferm- 
line, as his relative Mr John Campbell was then settled 
there ; and also as it was near Edinburgh, where he in- 
tended during winter to publish his poem, and take license 
to preach the gospel. 

He left Glasgow for Dunfermline by coach, about the 2d 
of October, at six o'clock in the morning. His friend 
Mr Marr and I, carried his trunk from his lodgings at 
the head of Crown Street, Hutchesontown, to the coach- 
omce in Trongate ; where he was told that it could not 
go by coach that day, but that it would be sent the 
clay following ; upon which he entrusted it to the care 
of the clerk, making him promise to come good for it. 
He then made a momentary pause, and hastily taking 
the key of the trunk from his pocket, opened it, took 
out the manuscript of his poem, rolled it up into a scroll, 
and put it into his great-coat pocket, saying to Mr Marr 
and me, with a look of satisfaction, " A man is just as 
well to have the hank in his own hand." He then bade us 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 313 

farewell, and set out for Dunfermline — leaving Glasgow, 
where he had passed nine winters in prosperous study, to see 
it only once or twice more in his life. 

Immediately after his arrival at Dunfermline, being accom- 
modated with comfortable lodgings in the house of Mr John 
Davidson, bookseller, High Street, he proceeded " to correct 
and copy out " his poem ; which he had not, as he intended, 
begun to do before. The following letter, which he wrote 
to his father in the beginning of November, will show how 
he proceeded with its transcription : — 

" Dunfermline, Nov. 2, 1826. 
" Dear Father — The sum of what I have to say to you at 
this time is, that I have been, in every respect, extremely 
comfortable since I came to this place. Kindness after kind- 
ness has been heaped upon me ; and invitations, by the most 
respectable inhabitants of the place, continue to increase. I 
have not, however, neglected my own pursuits. I have been 
here only a month, and I am approaching to a close with the 
correction and copying out of my poem ; so that two or three 
weeks will suffice for the finishing of it. I have indeed 
been much assisted in this wearisome process by a lady 
here, who has undertaken the writing out of four books of 
it, and will soon have them finished. It is astonishing with 
what facility she reads my old crabbed manuscript. Indeed, 
I sometimes think she has got a little touch of inspiration.* 

" To-morrow, I mean to go to Edinburgh, as the Presby- 
tery meets on Tuesday next, and I mean to be in waiting for 



"This "lady" was Miss Jessie Swan, daughter of Mr William Swan, 
manufacturer, in whose family Robert was treated as a son and a bro ther, 

2t> 



314 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

it. As soon as it is over, however, I intend to return to 
Dunfermline, and remain there till I have finished the cor- 
rection of my poem. My lodgings are cheap, and very com- 
fortable. 

" I have heard nothing of David, but hope to meet him in 
Edinburgh. How is Margaret and Janet Young, and John s 
family, and Mrs Gilmour ? Let me know how you all are. 
Tell all my friends who enquire for me, that I have wished 
you to give them my compliments. Tell young John that I 
remember him in particular, and wish much to hear that he 
is learning something. And tell Janet Young that I wish 
her to be obedient to Margaret and Mrs Gilmour, and to 
apply herself diligently to reading, writing, and sewing. 

" I have taken every care of my health since I left home, 
and I have reason to thank God that it is very good. 

" Mr Campbell is well situated here. He and Mrs Camp- 
bell are most kind j and, although I do not live with them, 
but in lodgings, I am often there, and perfectly at home. 

" I wish you to write me directly, as I am wearing uncom- 
monly to hear from you* Address to me, at Mr Davidson's, 
bookseller, Dunfermline. I shall expect a letter in a few 
days. In the mean time, I am, dear father, your affection- 
ate son, 

« R, POLLOK." 

On the 3d of November, the day after writing this letter, 
he went to Edinburgh to be in readinesss for the Presbytery ; 
and while there he called, without introduction, on Mr 
Blackwood, and told him he had some manuscript poetry 
that might perhaps lie in his way. Mr Blackwood made 
some enquiry about the poetry, and in the end, after a short 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 315 

conversation respecting it, said, if the manuscript should be 
sent to him when it was finished, he would " look into it." 
Such was the first trial that he made to publish " The Course 
of Time." 

On Tuesday the 7th of November, having undergone the 
usual examination, he was taken on trials for license to preach 
the gospel, by the United Associate Presbytery of Edinburgh ; 
and had subjects for trial-discourses assigned him. 

The same day he returned to Dunfermline, and proceeded 
with the transcribing of his poem. When it was finished he 
sent the manuscript to Mr Blackwood, accompanied with the 
following letter, expressive of some of his sentiments respect- 
ing it :— 

« Dunfermline, Nov. 22, 1826. 
" Sir — With this you will receive the manuscript of which I 
spoke to you, two or three weeks ago. It is a poem in ten 
books, embracing a great variety of subjects. You will judge 
of the manner in which these are handled, and, as I hope the 
poem will explain itself, I deem it unnecessary to say any 
thing of the plan. It is, as far as I know, new ; the senti- 
ments which I have expressed of religion, which is especially 
treated of in the second book, are such as seemed to me 
agreeable to the Word of God ; and in few instances, I 
believe, will they be found differing from the approved creed 
of our country. In the language, I have intentionally avoided 
a pompous and swelling phraseology, and have aimed mainly 
at strength and perspecuity. If the work take at all, it must 
take extensively, as all mankind are alike interested in the 
subject of it. 

■' The first six books, in my own hand, may be a little 



316 THtE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

difficult to read ; the four last, which were copied by a young 
hand, are rather crowded in the words, and there are some 
inaccuracies ; hut the person who is able to judge of the 
merit of the work, will also be able to correct for himself any 
thing of this kind. 

" I hope you will look into the manuscript as soon as it 
may suit your convenience, as I wish to have it published 
some time during the present winter. I intend to be in 
Edinburgh in the course of two weeks, and shall then call on 
you. In the mean time, as I have scarcely another complete 
copy of the poem, I shall be anxious to know if it has come 
safely into your hands ; will you, therefore, be so kind as let 
me know ? A note addressed to me at Mr Davidson's, book- 
seller, Dunfermline, will find me. — lam, sir, yours, 

" R, Pollok." 

Immediately after sending away this letter, he began to 
prepare his homily, the first of his trial-discourses ; and on 
Tuesday, the 5th of December, he went to Edinburgh and 
delivered it to the Presbytery, which sustained it as part of 
his trials for license. 

From the Presbytery he went, according to his promise, 
and called on Mr Blackwood to see whether he would publish 
his poem or not. That gentleman received him courteously ; 
and said that he had read the poem, and had formed a very 
high opinion of it, also that he had sent the manuscript for 
perusal to Professor Wilson and Mr Moir, and that their 
opinion coincided with his own ; he then frankly gave him 
their letters respecting it. When Robert had read them, Mr 
Blackwood told him, that from what he thought of it himself, as 
well as from what his two literary friends had said of it, though 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLL OK. 317 

he was not sure how it would take with the public, he was 
willing to publish a small edition of the work, and to allow 
him one half of the profits. To these terms Robert imme- 
diately agreed, and Mr Blackwood told him the work would 
be put to press about the new-year, when his presence in 
Edinburgh would be desirable, if not necessary. In the mean 
time he returned to Dunfermline and prepared his lecture, 
his second trial-discourse, which was to be delivered at the 
meeting of Presbytery in the beginning of January. 

In the end of December his poem was put to press ; and 
on the 30th of that month he left Dunfermline, and went to 
Edinburgh. On his arrival there, he took lodgings at No. 
3, Davie Street, in the Old Town. Here, in the end of 
1826, an utter stranger, without introduction and without 
money, he took up his residence to correct the proof-sheets 
..-of " The Course of Time," as they passed through the press, 
and to prosecute his trials for license. 

At the meeting of Presbytery on Tuesday the 2d of 
January, he went to deliver his lecture, which he had pre- 
pared at Dunfermline ; but he had to put off the delivery of 
it for a month. 

Next day he was introduced by Mr Blackwood to Profes- 
sor Wilson ; and the following letter, which he wrote to his 
father a few hours after, gives some account of the conver- 
sation with him : — 

" Edinburgh, Jan. 3, 1827. 
" Dear Father — I have been waiting anxiously for some 
time, that I might have something decided to say about my 
poem ; and now I am happy to tell you that it is in the 
press. Mr Blackwood, the only publisher in Scotland to 



318 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

whom I would have given it, has agreed to publish it. I 
have reserved the copyright in my own hand, and, of course, 
have secured the profits for twenty-eight years — if there be 
any profits. 

" You have heard me speak of Professor Wilson : he is 
one of the greatest literary men of the age, and the principal 
contributor to 'Blackwood's Magazine,' one of the most power- 
ful reviews in Britain. But, better than this, his opinion of 
my work is extremely high — as high as my own ; and, you 
know, that is high enough. I had a conversation with him 
to-day ; and he has no doubt that, whatever may be the 
reception of the work at first, it will ultimately take a high 
and a lasting place among the English poetry. He was 
pleased, indeed, to compliment me very highly, and expressed 
great happiness that I come from Renfrewshire, which is 
his native shire also. But what is of more advantage to me 
than this, he has kindly offered to assist me, with all his 
might, in revising and correcting the sheets as they come 
through the press. It will gratify John a little to tell him 
that Mr Wilson pointed out the character of Lord Byron as 
' a very extraordinary piece of writing :'* he will remember 
that he thought it the best of the whole. 

" In six weeks, or two months at most, you may expect to 
seethe work before the public; and I beseech you prepare your- 
self for hearing most murderous criticisms. 



* Mr Wilson told him that, in deciding on the merits of the work, he 
read only the passage referred to, and the description of the Millennium ; 
as he knew, he said, that these two specimens would compare, perhapa- 
to advantage, with any thing in British literature, and was sure that the 
man who wrote them would not let any thing out of his hands that was not 
good. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 319 

" It would be impossible to give you even a sketch of my 
history for the last six weeks. I met with extraordinary 
kindness in Dunfermline ; but the necessity of my presence 
here compelled me to leave it. I came to Edinburgh on 
Saturday last, and am lodged most comfortably at 3, Davie 
Street, in the house of a Mr Lawson, on the same stair-head 
with David. My health has been, upon the whole, good. 
David is well, and wishes you to consider the latter part of 
this letter as from him also. We are getting on with the 
Presbytery ; but they are, as Mr Marr says, ' a curious 
class of men/ 

" You may tell my friends that the poem is in the press, 
and that they may expect copies of it in about two months. 
How are Margaret, John, and his family, Mrs Gilmour, 
young John, and Janet Young ? That I do not write to 
them is, first, because I am really very much engaged ; and 
second, because this letter to you will tell them all I could 
say of moment. But it would gratify me exceedingly to hear 
from them ; tell them all to write. * * * Tell all 

my friends that I remember them daily, and will be happy 
to hear from any of them. I would like very much if Miss 
Jean Pollok would write a letter, giving me the kind of lad- 
and-lass news of the place. I hope you have good health. 
David and I wish you and all our friends a happy new- 
year. 

" The gentlemen here had no difficulty in reading my 
manuscript. Write to me immediately, and write by post, 
unless you have some parcel to send. — Yours, dear father, 

« R. Pollok." 

From the following letter, which he wrote to his father 



320 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

towards the end of January, it will be seen how the print- 
ing of his poem and his trials for license were then going 



" Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1827. 
* Dear Father — I am surprised that I received no letter from 
you, and as I have an opportunity of sending this by Mr 
Mitchell,* I embrace it, to request you to let us know, as 
soon as possible, how you are. I wrote to you about two 
weeks ago, stating that my poem was in the press ; and, as I 
cannot suppose that you have not got the letter, I shall not 
repeat any thing which I said in it. Only I may mention 
that the printing is proceeding with as much rapidity as I 
can expect, and that Professor Wilson continues to render 
me all the assistance he can. 

" If you will examine the drawer of the old table on which I 
used to write, you will find, in some corner of it, or in some 
of the books which are lying in it, two sheets of paper, 
decently written, in a hand similar to that in which I am just 
writing ; one of the sheets begins with this line : — 

i As one who meditates at evening tide.' 

Send them to me with your letter, and as many letters as you 
can collect among my friends. If they are here in the course 
of a week or ten days they will be in time. It is merely for a 
correction which I made on two lines, that I want the sheets. 
I know the correction pleased me, and I cannot now remem- 
ber what it was. You must, therefore, be sure to send them. 
My lodgings are at Mr Lawson's, 3, Davie Street. 

* James Mitchell, M.D., Esq., Darwhilling.. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 321 

" We are getting on with the Presbytery but slowly, on 
account of the great number of young men who are on trials 
before it ; nearly the half of those who finished their course 
in the Hall last session, are here. 

" David sends his compliments ; we are both well. Dr 
Mitchell supped with me this evening, and David and I go to 
breakfast with him at the Crown Inn to-morrow morning. 
I tell you this circumstance, because it shows the attention 
of so worthy a gentleman, and because I feel myself happy in 
having seen a face from the west country, and, therefore, 
wish to be talking about it. 

•* I had a letter the other day from the Rev. Robert Pollok, 
Buckhaven ; he seems to be getting on well ; I have not seen 
him, however, since that night we were at Moorhouse 
together. 

" It would be a curious thing to get a letter from . 

I can conceive him coming in to the old spence and gather- 
ing up a bit of paper, a drop of ink, and some stump of an 
old pen or two, that have been left from the writing of * The 
Course of Time' — and then coming back for a penknife — 
and then sitting down with all this apparatus about him. 
But when will his letter be finished ? I can see it will be a 
prodigious labour for him indeed. 

" We expect Margaret to write; and I think Mrs Gilmour, 
who has nothing to do, might send a line. Dear Father, 
yours affectionately, 

" R. Pollok. 

" Tell young John and Janet Young, that I remember 
them daily, and they must not forget me. Tell little Robert 



322 THE LIFE GF ROBERT POLLOK. 

and David,* that I saw an elephant the other day, with a 
great long nose, which I will tell them about when I come 
home. Compliments to uncle's family." 

At the meeting of Presbytery in the beginning of Febru- 
ary, he delivered his lecture, which, after the usual criticism, 
was sustained as part of his trials for license ; and towards 
the end of the same month, while the printing of " The 
Course of Time" was going on, he prepared his critical 
exercise and additions, the subject of which was Heb. ii. 9. 

At that time he was so much exhausted and was so weak, 
that he could not sit at table to write his exercise. This 
arose from the unexpected protraction of the printing of his 
poem, and from his close watchful application to its revision 
and correction, which, by keeping his mind long in suspense, 
and long in contact with mere words, accents, and points — 
things most uncongenial to his nature — produced an irrita- 
ting mental and bodily excitement, that entirely took away 
his sleep ; so that, to use his own words, he " lay every night 
broad awake, engaged in thought." Once, while he was 
preparing the exercise, I remember going into his room 
to see how he was getting on, and I found him writing at the 
fireside, on his landlord's family Bible laid across his knees. 

In the beginning of March he delivered the exercise to the 
Presbytery, and it was received as part of his trials for license ; 
and by the middle of March the printing of his poem, so 
unexpectedly protracted, was beginning to draw to a close. 
His mind being relieved, in great measure, from the anxiety 

* His brother John's children, whom, in the intervals of writing " The 
Course of Time," at Moorhouse, in the summers of 1825-6, he used to lead 
out into the fields. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 323 

of correction, had regained its usual tranquillity, and his 
bodily strength was much recruited ; and to the publication 
of his poem, now approaching, he looked forward with per- 
fect equanimity. " The work," he said to me, " may find its 
way slowly into public notice, but it will find it." 

One night, after having corrected the last, or nearly the 
last, sheet of his poem, he gave me a most interesting account 
of an extensive prose work which he intended to write. It 
had arisen, as he expressed it, " from the rejected matter of 
* The Course of Time,' " and was to be a survey of litera- 
ture by the light of Divine Revelation, or a review in which 
the literature of all ages would be brought to the test and 
standard of Christianity. He thought that the work would 
extend to five or six octavo volumes, and that it would 
take him five or six years to write. The first volume of 
it was to be wholly introductory, showing the nature, ex- 
tent, and importance of the subject. In the progress of 
the work, he meant to classify authors, and give a general 
view of their writings ; select one from each class, and 
review him thoroughly, pointing out his characteristics, 
and then bring him to the test of Christianity. As the 
prince and representative of heathen poets, he intended 
to select Homer ; and in reviewing him and other authors 
before the Christian era, his design was to show how 
far they agreed with Christianity, and how far they dif- 
fered from or were opposed to it ; and it would be seen, he 
remarked, that they were opposed to it in almost every 
thing. He meant, he said, " to have a volume of splendid 
writing at the introduction of Christianity," showing the 
state of the world at that time, and the change produced by 
the coming of the Saviour. " This volume," he said with 



324 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

great enthusiasm, " will be, in many places, more poetical 
than any thing in ' The Course of Time.' " In reviewing 
authors who have written since the Christian era, his inten- 
tion was to enquire how much they had been influenced by 
heathen literature ; " and it would be found," he observed, 
" that they had been much influenced by it all along, even 
to the present day." Among the modern poets he meant to 
review Milton, Shakspeare, and Byron ; and Milton was to 
be the first poet that would stand the test. From the 
moralists he had selected Addison and Johnson, and their 
morality was to be carefully examined. Novels of all kinds he 
was determined to condemn entirely ; and he meant to give the 
Novels of Sir Walter Scott athorough scrutiny. After review- 
ing published sermons, which he said would be found to be tinc- 
tured, more or less, with heathen philosophy, he intended to 
examine pulpit oratory — "the preaching of the present day," 
which, he added, would not altogether stand the test ; " for 
even here there will be found a sprinkling of heathen litera- 
ture." And the work was to conclude with the signs of the 
times, showing from facts and from the Bible what progress 
the world will make, and what perfection it will attain in 
literature and in Christianity. 

On the writing of this work, it may be added here, his 
heart was greatly set. He contemplated it with much delight, 
and was eager to commence it. The truth is, as it had " arisen 
from the rejected matter of < The Course of Time,' " he 
reckoned it so far supplemental to it ; and, as he rested his 
poetic fame on the poem, so he meant to rest his literary 
reputation on the prose-work. But, alas ! he was not spared 
to undertake it. 

When he had finished the correction of his poem, he pre* 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 325 

pared for the Presbytery his fourth trial-discourse, the text 
of -which was Psalm lxxii. 17, " His name shall endure for 
ever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun ; and men 
shall be blessed in him : all nations shall call him blessed " — 
a text, as he said, " most congenial and refreshing to his 
soul." On the 24th of March, while he was engaged in pre- 
paring this sermon, which was the last that he ever wrote, 
" The Course of Time" was published. 

It will be proper now to give some account of the manu- 
scripts and the correction of the poem. There were but two 
manuscripts of it, and one of these, indeed, was scarcely 
complete. In leaving Dunfermline for Edinburgh, in the 
end of 1826, after having transcribed it for the press, he 
gave his friend Mr John Campbell, at his own request, 
the original manuscript of the work ; and that gentleman, a 
few years afterwards, on going to live in Belfast, placed it in 
the College Museum of that town. With respect to the cor- 
rection which he gave the poem, it was not much ; and the 
alterations that he made, it would appear, were neither nu- 
merous nor important ; as Mr Campbell told me, that he and 
another gentleman, soon after the publication of the poem, 
compared the printed copy with the original drafts, and the dif- 
ference between them, he said, was so small, that the work 
would have suffered little, if any, to have been printed from 
that manuscript. In revising the transcribed- copy of his 
poem for the press, the corrections that he gave it were very 
few, as the manuscript itself, now in my possession, shows 
throughout ; there being few marks of correction, and some 
whole books of it, especially of the first six, which he copied 
himself, having scarcely any at all. As for the altera^ 



326 THE LIFE OP EGBERT FOLLOK. 

tions that lie made in the proof-sheets of the work, they 
were confined chiefly to the harmony of the verse. It may 
be added, in fine, on this subject, that throughout the whole 
process of revision and correction, while the printing of his 
poem was going on, he read, at intervals, the standard Eng- 
lish blank verse writers, to keep his mind familiar with poetical 
ideas, language, and imagery, and to test severely his own 
versification, to which, in that process, he gave much attention. 
On the publication of his poem, he sent a copy of it, with 
the following letter, to his father, along with a few others to 
his relations about Moorhouse and in Ayrshire : — 

" Edinburgh, March 22, 1827. 
" Dear Father— -You will receive, along with this, a parcel 
of my poem. I would have sent more copies of it, but it is 
expensive. You can lend your copy to Jean — Margaret, of 
course, will see it. The others you will send to the persons 
to whom they are addressed. 

" David has got your letter. It is well that you are 
in good health ; and I hope we shall soon get out of our diffi- 
culties. 

" It will be the 1st of May before the students be licensed 
in this Presbytery. We will likely be in the west country 
towards the end of May. We are both well, only I am a 
little worn with the application of the last two months.— ■=- 
Yours affectionately, " R. Pollok. 

" Let us hear from you soon. I expect to hear from John/' 

While he was addressing the copies of his poem sent along 
with this letter, I happened to say to him, as he paused a 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 327 

little to consider how many it would be necessary to forward 
to his relations, " You will send a copy of it to your cousin 
Robert Pollok;" and he said, " Yes, for it was in his com- 
pany that I learned to write the ' Course of Time'" — re- 
ferring, I understood, to the impressions which he received, 
the ideas which he formed, and the habits of observation 
and thinking which he acquired in early life, when he and 
Robert were constant companions ; and also to many long 
conversations that he had with him in after-life, when he 
talked to him at large of man and nature, of religion, phi- 
losophy, and poetry, till, by degrees, he came to view them 
as they now appear in that work, 

Besides presenting ten or twelve copies of his poem to 
his relations, he sent about an equal number to his 
friends and acquaintance ; and it seems worthy of being 
remarked, that, on addressing a copy of it to the Rev. Robert 
Pollok, he said he would send copies of it to only other two 
ministers, Dr Ferrier and Dr Dick ; but each of these should 
have one as a mark of his estimation of their character. 
It may be added as a memorable coincidence, that these 
two great and good men acknowledged the reception of 
their copies in the same way, and nearly in the same 
words. Dr Ferrier said to Mr Marr, on telling him that 
he had received his copy, " I should write acknowledging 
it; but tell Mr Pollok that I thank him for the honour 
he has done me in sending it ; for I do count it an honour : 
it is an immortal work." And Dr Dick said to me, after 
Robert's death, in speaking of the copy which he had re- 
ceived, " I should have written to your brother. I was 
pleased, however, with the honour that he conferred on me 



328 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

in sending- me a copy of his poem, which I read with much 
satisfaction : it will be lasting." 

Immediately on publication, his poem produced consider- 
able sensation in Edinburgh ; and, in the course of a week 
after it was published, it was generally known there and in 
the neighbourhood. 

On Wednesday, the 4th of April, Robert delivered his 
popular sermon, the fourth of his trial-discourses. When 
he rose to proceed to the pulpit, the members of Presby- 
tery looked eagerly at him, as if he had been some interest- 
ing stranger who had never appeared among them before ; 
and when he had delivered the discourse, only one of them 
rose to criticise it ; while the rest said, without rising, that 
they had no remarks to make on it. One of them added, 
with a look of complacency, " It is just such a discourse as 
I would have expected from that gentleman, from what I have 
heard out of doors." After this, the sermon was, without 
further remark, sustained as part of his trials for license. 

In the month of April he wrote his Latin exigesis, the 
theme of which was, " An Ecclesia vel Scriptura in re fidei 
judex?"* prepared a Hebrew psalm, and revised a century 
or two of Church history ; which were all his trial-exercises 
that remained. 

In the course of that month, he told me one day, in com- 
ing in from a walk, that he had just seen Mr Robertson, the 
publisher of " Ralph Gemmell " and " The Persecuted 
Family," and that he had received from him a very liberal 
offer to allow him to publish these tales with his name as the 

* Whether is the Church or Scripture judge in matters of fadth ? 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 329 

author of " The Course of Time ;" but that he had refused 
to allow him to do so on any terms, adding 1 , with emphasis, 
" How could I acknowledge them ? I do not know but I 
may yet publish a work condemning all such writings." 

Towards the end of the month, when he had gone out of 
town on a visit for a few days, he received a letter from 
Mr Blackwood, indicating very satisfactorily to what extent 
" The Course of Time" had then attracted public attention. 

At the next meeting of Presbytery, which continued two 
days, Robert appeared before it for the last time. On Tues- 
day, the 1st of May, he read his Latin exigesis ; and on Wed- 
nesday, the 2d of the month, having performed the remain- 
der of his trials, he was, along with other nine students and 
myself, licensed to preach the gospel, under the inspection of 
the United Associate Synod ; and his name, in common with 
theirs, was ordered, according to the injunction of Synod, to be 
put on the list of probationers in the United Secession church. 

While he was going on with the publication of his poem 
and his trials for license, he wrote for a new periodical, 
called " The Esk," an article entitled a " Serious Thought," 
which may be appropriately inserted at the close of this 
chapter. 

" Serious Thought. 

" The immensity of creation is an awful thought, and well 
calculated to humble the pride of aspiring humanity. While 
the mind is wholly engaged with itself, planning, specula- 
ting, and performing, it disregards all other agency ; forgets 
its comparative worth; and, in the flood-tide of its own 
selfish passions, feels as if it was really a thing of high and 

2 E 



330 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

mighty importance. But, after the imagination has gone 
forth over the ample scenery of nature, and wearied itself 
with traversing that height and depth, that breadth and 
length of apparent existence, ' which passes knowledge,' it 
returns home into the little chamber of its own being, blush- 
ing with the consciousness of its own individual littleness. 
The sedate and contemplative man sees every where such 
magnitude and variety, agents and operations so numerous, 
and conceives so much and so many more, as cannot fail to 
reduce his own self-importance, and press him down to the 
lowly conclusion, that he bears no greater proportion to the 
immensity of being and number of agents, than does one grain 
of sand to the whole globe of the earth, and that his total dis- 
missal from the theatre of creation would attract as little notice 
as the removal of that single sand from the terrestrial orb. No 
wonder, then, that the pagan philosophers, enquiring and 
contemplative men, with no better light than fallen human 
reason to guide their speculations, were led to the dreary 
supposition, that the Great Spirit, retired in the deep 
unsearchable of his own eternity, or occupied with lofty 
general management, had left this little world, with all its 
little concerns, to wander on without any discriminating pro- 
vidence, and without any destination of its particular events. 
Such, indeed, seems to be a very natural deduction of unas- 
sisted human reasoning. When a man aseends the heights 
of thought, passes from world to world, from system to sys- 
tem, glances over the immense wilderness of being, and then 
stays his imagination on the infinite magnitude of the whole, 
to what conclusion can he arrive, but that he is too minute 
and insignificant a thing to be of any individual value, or to 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK* 331 

attract any notice from the Creator of so vast a universe ? 
But how dismal is such a thought ! how cold, and comfort- 
less, and abasing, is such a conclusion ! And how cheering 
to one, amidst such dark and desolate apprehensions, is the 
voice of that Revelation which proclaims to every son of 
man, that the hairs of his head are all numbered by the 
great God, that every tear of genuine sorrow is preserved in 
his bottle, and that not so much as a sparrow falls unheeded 
to the ground ! The omniscience which his watchful pro- 
vidence implies, is, no doubt, sometimes a painful thought 
to the best of men. If the superintending wisdom and care 
of the Almighty be ever present, the eye of his infinite purity 
must be ever present also, looking on every action, and 
piercing into every thought and intent of the heart. And 
who has not reason to blush ? who has not reason to tremble? 
who has not reason to hide himself from the presence of the 
Lord God ? But this feeling of shame will find a covering 
in the mercy of that very Being whose eye discovers the guilt 
that causes it- He offers to the sinful man a robe of 
righteousness to hide his spiritual deformity, and a sanctify- 
ing Spirit to renew and purify his heart ; and thus, while he 
is relieved from the shame and terror which the presence of 
a holy and omniscient Being must have else excited, he is 
left with the comfortable assurance that the Angel of the 
Covenant is ever at his right hand ; that, amidst all the 
vastness and variety of visible and invisible, he is an object 
of particular attention ; that, in every vicissitude of this ever- 
shifting, ever-changing mortal scenery, he is directed by a 
wise and omnipotent guide ; and that, when he leaves this 
world, and enters into the darkness of an untried and unknown 



332 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

futurity, he shall be led, by the golden chain of eternal love, 
with safe and unerring step into the everlasting chambers of 
his Father's house, and shall drink of those pleasures which 
are before his face and at his right hand for evermore." 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 333 



CHAPTER XII. 

Immediately on receiving license, Robert was engaged by 
Mr, now Dr John Brown, Rose Street, to preach to his con- 
gregation next day ; and he went straight from the Pres- 
bytery to his lodgings to prepare himself for the occasion. 
The sermon that he fixed on was the one on 1 Kings, xviii. 
21, " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, then 
follow him ; " and he began without delay to commit it to 
memory. 

The day following, Thursday the 3d of May, at eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon, he went to preach according to 
engagement. He came into the church preceded by Dr 
Brown ; and on his entrance the congregation looked at him 
with great eagerness. He had on a gown and cassock ; was 
pale, thin, and study-worn, and never had so interesting an 
appearance ; indeed, there seemed something angelic or 
heavenly in his look. 

Dr Brown went into the pulpit with him, and began 
public worship in his usual way, with praise and prayer, 
and reading a portion of Scripture ; and when he had 
done so, he left the pulpit. Robert then rose ; and, after 
shortly engaging in prayer, read his text, and proceeded in 
the delivery of his discourse, with a firm voice and a steady 
look, calm and collected. The first head he delivered with 
ease and readiness ; but immediately after announcing the 



334 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

second head, he hesitated — paused momentarily— tried to go 
on — and stopped ! For a moment he looked expressively 
to me, seated directly before him in the back seat below, 
and I can never forget his look. He tried once more to 
go on, and again stopped. He then made a decided stand 
in an attitude of determined recollection, as if he had been 
thinking over the discourse entirely alone ; and thus, after 
a short pause, during which he retained perfect self-pos- 
session, so that the audience never seemed to lose confi- 
dence in him, nor to be in the least distress, he recalled 
the sentence which had escaped him, and went on, from 
that to the end, calmly and collectedly as before. This, 
all things considered — the sermon being old-written and 
hastily committed to memory — the exhaustion of his strength 
— the first time of his preaching in public — the largeness 
and intelligence of his audience — not to mention the excite- 
ment produced by the recent publication of his poem — I 
may be allowed to say, I always regard as one of the most 
remarkable instances of his self-possession. 

His delivery of the sermon was natural and easy, not loud, 
but distinct and well heard ; calm, grave, earnest, feeling, 
mild, dignified, and impressive, accompanied with graceful 
gesture, and with striking expressiveness of looks. He 
arrested deeply the attention of the audience, and com- 
manded great stillness. 

On the dismissal of the congregation, having retired to 
Dr Brown's house, I followed him, to see how he felt himself 
after preaching ; and as I was going out of the church, the 
late Dr Belfrage, Slateford, who had been one of his audi- 
tors, said to me, in reference to the stop which he made in 
delivering his sermon, "Was there ever such self-possession? v 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLGK. 335 

In the house, he was introduced by Dr Brown to Dr Bel- 
frage ; and this benevolent gentleman and skilful physician, 
after conversing with him for some time, told him kindly that, 
from what he had seen of him in the pulpit, and from what he 
saw of him in conversation, he was weaker and in a worse state 
of health than he himself seemed to be aware, and invited him 
to go and stay at his house a week or two for the benefit 
of his health. Considering the Doctor's advice judicious, 
Robert gratefully accepted his kind invitation, and that day, 
or the next, went out with him to Slateford — a small village, 
pleasantly situated near the foot of the Pentland Hills, three 
miles west from Edinburgh. While there, he was carefully 
directed by Dr Belfrage in regard to the diet, exercise, and 
medicine proper for the recovery of his health and strength ; 
but, alas ! as will be seen, without success. 

On Sabbath, the 6th of May, he preached at Slateford for 
Dr Belfrage ; delivering in the forenoon the same sermon 
that he had given in Dr Brown's church the preceding 
Thursday ; and, in the afternoon, his sermon on Mat. v. 8, 
mentioned above. 

Two days afterwards, he wrote to his father the following 
letter, respecting himself and his poem : — 

" Slateford, May 8, 1824. 
" Dear Father — On Wednesday David and I, along with 
several others, were licensed to preach the gospel. It was 
not without much hesitation that I passed from among the 
laity into the sacred order; but I am now perfectly satisfied with 
the step I have taken. Next day after being licensed, which 
was the fast-day in Edinburgh, I preached in the forenoon 
in the Rev. John Brown's church, Rose Street ; the house is 



336 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

large, and was very full ; I, however, got upon the whole 
decently through with the service. Dr Belfrage of Slate- 
ford, where I now write, was present, as he was to preach in 
the afternoon, and I was fortunate enough to engage his 
friendship so much that I was compelled to promise to spend 
a week or two with him. I preached here on Sabbath both 
parts of the day. I the more willingly accepted this invita- 
tion, both because it was so disinterested and hind, and 
because my health required some repose. With the wordy 
anxieties and fatigues of the winter, I am considerably 
exhausted, but I have here every thing that can conduce to 
re-invigoration — a most delightful house, surrounded with 
the most exquisite scenery ; Dr Belfrage the kindest man in 
the world, and a most enlightened spirit ; his son, a fine 
clever young fellow; and a horse to ride on as much as 
I please every day. I shall, therefore, remain here a week or 
two ; perhaps it may be nearly the end of May before I be 
home. David was to preach last Sabbath for the Rev. 
Thomas Brown, Dalkeith. I have not yet heard how he 
got through, but I have no doubt all would be well. 

" My poem is attracting much attention in Edinburgh, and 
round about, and is selling, upon the whole, well ; it has been 
noticed and quoted by several papers, both in London and 
Edinburgh, and their remarks have been very laudatory. 
* * * Do not read this to any body : I wish to let you 
know what is said about it, but I do not wish you to say to 
any person that I have said so. Mr Brown of Rose Street, 
of whom you have often heard me speak very highly, has been 
very active in bringing it into notice. He pronounced his 
opinion of it fearlessly, as soon as he read it, and frequently 
recommended it to all his friends ; I, however, still expect 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 337 

much severity from several of the critics ; but I am as much 
at ease as if there were not a critic in the world. 

" Remember me to John and his family, Margaret, Janet 
Young, Mrs Gilmour, my uncle's family, and so on. If any 
thing should detain me longer in this quarter than I expect, 
you will be informed. — I am, &c. 

" R. Pollok." * 

On Sabbath the 13th of May, in the afternoon, Robert 
preached again for Dr Belfrage, when he delivered his sermon 
on Psalm lxxii. 17, and this was his last appearance in the 
pulpit. 

He preached therefore, it will be observed, only four times 
altogether, once in Edinburgh and thrice at Slateford ; and 
delivered on these occasions only three different discourses. 
It is an interesting coincidence, and seems worthy of notice, 
that the last sermon he wrote was also the last that he 
preached. 

In the end of May, instead of going home, as he intended 
in the beginning of the month, he wrote to his father the fol- 
lowing characteristic letter, which, besides assigning his rea- 
son for prolonging his stay at Slateford, communicates some 
information respecting his poem, and shows his usual interest 
in his friends at home: — 

" Slateford, May 27, 1827. 
" Dear Father — That you do not see me instead of this letter, 

* The original MS. of this letter is in the possession of George Johnston, 
Esq., factor to the Earl of Eglinton, who kindly transmitted it to be copied 
for insertion here. 

2F 



338 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

ascribe solely to the necessity of circumstances. I am still at 
Slateford ; my health is improving ; but Dr Belfrage insists 
that two or three weeks more of medical treatment are neces- 
sary, and he refuses to let me leave him. I am, therefore, a 
prisoner, but it is in a paradise, for every thing here looks as 
if our world had never fallen. 

" My poem continues to draw attention : several reviews 
of it have appeared. One London paper has very graciously 
placed me in the good company of Dante and Milton. Some 
are a little severe, but none have ventured to condemn. I 
enjoy the remarks very much, and am blessed with the utmost 
repose of mind. Private opinion of the poem, in this quarter, 
is very high; and its sale is going on well. Blackwood's 
face is shining considerably — the best sign of a bookseller. 
Solely on the work's account, I have been invited by some 
individuals of high standing in society, and am, upon the 
whole, prosperous in all my affairs. 

" I know nothing of David, except that he preached lately 
in Dr Jamieson's, Edinburgh. I suppose he will be in the 
west soon. 

" I request of you as a particular favour, that you will 
write to me the same day you receive this, and let me hear 
if you are all well. Remember me to all my friends. Was 
John well forward with his labour this spring ? Tell Mar- 
garet and Mrs Gilmour that I weary much to see them. 
John and Janet Young do not forget me, I hope. You 
may salute little Robert and David in my name. 

" Now be sure you write directly — do not put off a day. 
I am extremely anxious to hear from you. Address to me 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 339 

at the Rev. Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, near Edinburgh. — I 
am yours, &c. 

" R. Pollok." 

In the beginning of June, Robert received, from the United 
Associate Synod, preaching appointments for five months, in 
the Presbytery of Edinburgh/ and in the Presbytery of Glas- 
gow ; but was not permitted, in the providence of God, to 
fulfil any of them. 

If his health was really improving, as he thought it was, 
when he wrote to his father in the end of May, the improve- 
ment of it was of very short continuance. Early in June, 
notwithstanding his strict attention to the course of medical 
treatment prescribed to him by Dr Belfrage, he took sud- 
denly ill, and continued so for two or three weeks. When 
this took place, Dr Belfrage and his son, Mr Henry, a student 
of medicine, who had kindly and assiduously attended to him 
night and day, not contented with their own skill, procured 
for him, through friendship, the attendance of some of the 
most eminent physicians in Edinburgh ; but, notwithstanding 
all that could be done for him, he became daily weaker and 
weaker, till near the end of June, when he began, under 
their treatment, to improve a little in strength. 

In the beginning of July, having received intelligence that 
a report had reached his father of his life being in imminent 
danger, he wrote to him the following letter, which, in as far 
as respects his health, is the most valuable and interesting 
one that he ever wrote : — 



340 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" Slateford, July 4, 1827. 
" Dear Father — The report, which has reached you concern- 
ing my health, is far from being 1 true in its utmost extent. 
That I have been ill is certain ; but that my life has been in 
imminent danger, is a thing that never occurred either to 
myself or my medical friends. I am blameable in not writ- 
ing to you, more particularly, sooner. But I have this 
excuse, that for some weeks past I have been unable to 
write ; and, although it is more than a week since I began 
to recover, I wished to wait till I might be able to give you 
a very satisfactory account. 

" It is impossible, in a single letter, to give you a detail 
either of the circumstances from which my sickness arose, or 
of the manner in which I have been affected, or of the means 
which have been used for my recovery. I may shortly say, 
that the medical friends in the west country, on whom I had 
been accustomed to rely somewhat, had totally misunderstood 
my complaints. The consequence was, that nothing was 
ever done that had any tendency to remove them. I was as 
unfortunate with the surgeon whom I consulted in Dunferm- 
line, a week or two before the new-year ; * for about that 
time I felt my health begin to yield a little. Of the cause 
why I did not consult more skilful men, you need not be told. 
I was then obscure and unknown, and had no influence to 
bring me into such presence. Accordingly, as my labour in- 
creased in the spring months, so did my complaints ; first, 
almost total indigestion ; then, loss of appetite ; and then, or 
rather simultaneous with these, a quick, high, and feverish 

* 1827. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 341 

pulse : so that, when I took license in the beginning 1 of May, 
I was utterly worn out, in a state of high fever, and just 
ready to fall into the hands of the physicians. 

" You will be ready to ask why I did not sooner yield to 
the disease, and give up all labour. This was quite impos- 
sible. From home, and during spring without money and 
without friend that could in the slightest degree assist me, 
the only hope of securing that medical assistance, and other 
comforts which I felt I needed, and at the same time of de- 
livering my mind from the infinite anxiety which should have 
oppressed it, if I had gone to a sick-bed with the works and 
studies of many years lying about me, blasted in their very 
birth — my only hope, I say, [of doing this,] remained in 
finishing my publication and taking license. Accordingly, 
in one day, my mind felt itself in perfect repose ; and in the 
course of a few weeks, my reputation gave me far more power 
over all that I need of than any quantity of money could 
have done. 

" I have been constantly attended by Dr Abercrombie, 
the first physician in Edinburgh. I have also been attended 
by Drs Scott and Mackintosh, and other [medical] men of 
first eminence from Edinburgh ; and especially I have been, 
night and day, watched by Dr Belfrage and his son — have 
received all my medicine from their own hands, and every 
symptom has been remarked as soon as felt. From all quar- 
ters enquiries have come. Cordials and compliments have 
been sent me in boundless number ; and, especially, one gen- 
tleman's family in the immediate neighbourhood seems to 
have searched for and invented, night and day, whatever 



342 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

might be favourable to my health, or might soothe me while 
I suffered.* 

" I leave you to make your own reflections On God's infi- 
nite mercy to me in this case. I have been afflicted, I hope, 
much for my good, and the good of my friends ; but I have 
not been a moment without the smile of his blessed counte- 
nance : he has, indeed, ' staid his rough wind in the day of 
the east wind,' and * in wrath he has remembered me in the 
multitude of his mercies.' 

" Till within eight days, notwithstanding all that had been 
done in my favour, the appetite was still nothing, the inters 
nal pains were little diminished, the pulse was obstinately 
feverish, and I went daily down in appearance and strength. 
But the cooling food and the cooling medicine have ulti- 
mately prevailed ; the powers of nature are reviving, my 
appetite has returned, and I am able to ride out two hours 
a-day. The writing of this long letter, which I have done, 
or shall do all at once, is an obvious proof that I am not 
sick. 

" I have not time to tell you of the numerous attentions 
which I have received from literary men. What has grati- 
fied me most is the very striking attention which I have lately 
received from the venerable Mr Mackenzie, aged eighty- 
four, author of ' The Man of Feeling/ I felt his attention 
to be as if some literary patriarch had risen from the grave, 
to bless me and do me honour. 

" Now, my dear father, I know Mrs ■■ and other 

* This was the family of Alexander Monro, M.D., Esq. of Craiglockhart. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 343 

women will have strange sentimental forebodings about my 
health, and they will whisper, and peep, and mutter ; but give 
no heed to them. I have strong faith that God will yet add 
many years to my life. What ! did he not create me ? — and 
can he not now, as he has begun to do, make me well, and 
keep me well ? < He killeth and maketh alive, he bringeth 
down to the grave and bringeth up ;' he bringeth whom he 
will into honour, and turneth whom he will into disgrace. 
And be assured, that all such groundless prophesyings and 
whisperings come from the devil, and they often effect what 
he intends, by affecting the spirit of the patient ; and thus 
one is cut off that might have been hurtful to his kingdom. 
As for myself, any whispering of that kind reaching my ear 
would greatly strengthen the principle of life within me. I 
should cry to God that I might live for the very purpose of 
proving Satan once more to be, what he has always been, the 
father of lies. That these whisperings come from the devil, 
we have sufficient proof ; because every thing suggested by 
the Divine [Spirit,] or the word of God, may be publicly 
declared to all the world — to the wise and foolish, to the sick 
and the whole ; but those who are under Satanic influence, 
whisper, and peep, and mutter, in imitation, I suppose, of that 
sad and infernal music which the devil is doomed to hear, day 
and night, in his place of woe. Take no notice, therefore, of 
whatever you may see of this kind. I am too well acquainted 
with Satan to be so wheedled out of my life. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" I have received L.20 from Blackwood, which has re- 



344 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

lieved my mind from present anxiety. Write to me in a 
day or two, and I will answer your letter immediately ; 
tell me the news." 

In the end of June and the beginning' of July, when Robert 
was recovering from his illness, I paid him several visits at 
Slateford ; and on one of them, when I asked him particu- 
larly about his health, he said, " My mind has just become 
too vigorous for my body, and has worn it out. Tf my body 
would bear it, I could at this moment write more rapidly and 
energetically than ever I did in my life. I would take in 
hand just now to dictate, in two hours, a sermon of ordinary 
length, on the words of our Saviour to Peter, in John xiii* 
7, " What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know 
hereafter." 

In the beginning of July, when he had partially recovered 
his strength, it was proposed by Dr Belfrage, with the con- 
currence of some of his medical friends, that he should go 
to Italy to pass the winter ; and it was agreed that, as soon 
as he was able, he should take a sail to Aberdeen, as a 
voyage of experiment, to try his ability for going to the 
Continent. In the middle of the same month he wrote 
the following letter to his father, giving an account of his 
health, stating when he intended to make this experiment, 
and communicating some further information respecting 
his poem i — 

« Slateford, July 16, 1827. 
" Dear Father — I thank God that I am able to inform you 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. # 345 

that my health advances steadily, and with much more ra- 
pidity than I could possibly have expected. It is only about 
three weeks since I began to discern that my constitu- 
tion, under the blessing of a kind and infinitely merciful 
Providence, had begun to master the disease.* My appe- 
tite is now excellent. I eat more in one day than I did in 
a week when I came to Slateford. I have been in Edin- 
burgh almost every day for the last week — on horseback I 
mean, for walking in this weather would, on my part, be 
absolute insanity. 

" On Wednesday first I intend to sail for Aberdeen, 
where I shall likely remain for a few days. Afterwards, I 
intend to coast round to Dundee, sail up the Tay to Perth, 
where I shall likely remain for some time ; from thence I 
intend to come straight to Edinburgh, stay a few days with 
Dr Belfrage, take the Lanark coach, see the falls of Clyde, 
come to Glasgow, and thence to Moorhouse, whose very 
name sounds sacredly in my ear. This is what I intend, 
under the Providence which directeth all. I should have 
willingly enough come west just now, and taken sailing by 
the western Highlands, but I am not known in these quarters; 
whereas, over all the district which I have mentioned, I have 
numerous invitations from gentlemen of most substantial 



* This is the first time that, in speaking of his health in his letters, he 
calls his complaint " the disease ; " but what it was he has not said ; nor 
did Dr Belfrage, or any of his other medical attendants, so far as I know, 
ever give it a name; but from its origin and symptoms, there is no 
doubt that it was liver-complaint with affection in the windpipe, if not 
in the lungs. Dr Belfrage told me in the beginning of July, that he and 
his medical friends had not then ascertained whether his lungs were 
affected or not, and I never heard him speak on the subject again. 



346 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

standing, so that I shall be at little expense, except for boats 
and coaches. You see the exceeding great advantage of 
this. If I continue well, you need expect no letter till I am 
nearly home ; but depend upon it, you shall have the most 
accurate account of my health if there be any need. Be 
alarmed by nothing, unless it come sanctioned by my own 
authority. I hope you will let my friends in the west know 
of my recovery; tell them that I have sailed out into the 
German ocean. 

" I have been for many weeks five shillings a- week at an. 
average for postages,* but I shall now be delivered. 

" With this you will receive a London ' Review/ contain- 
ing a critique on my poem. The gentleman who wrote it, 
whomsoever he may be, is deficient in one or two of the 
great powers of mind ; but, upon the whole, the review is a 
good one — I mean as reviews go now-a-days, since the death 
of Dr Samuel Johnson, who was the only reviewer that ever 
appeared in this country with powers equal to the great 
authors whom he reviewed, and who, on that very account, 
was the only man that could do his subject justice. The 
critic accuses me, several times, of borrowing. This is abso- 
lute nonsense. I am conscious that I did not borrow a thought 
from any poet, dead or alive, in the whole of ' The Course 
of Time.' Likenesses, here and there, occur among all poets ; 
and when it so happens, the critic always charges the author 
with imitation. This is one of the evils of authorship, which 
we know before we publish ; and we submit to it with cheer- 

* For letters, chiefly from strangers, congratulating him on the merit 
of his poem, and condoling with him on the ill state of his health ; but 
none of the letters have been preserved. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 347 

fulness. Soon after Milton published his immortal work, a 
critic wrote a long book, in which he undertook to prove 
that every fine passage in Milton was borrowed. 

" I have this morning read Jean's letter with great 
pleasure. 

" Since I wrote to you last, I had a personal visit from Mr 
Henry Mackenzie, of whom I spoke in my last letter. He is 
an exceedingly cheerful old man. 

" David will be home, probably about the same time as this 
parcel ; but you must take notice, that this brings you intel- 
ligence six days later than he can bring, as I have not seen 
him during that time, and my health has since very mate- 
rially improved. 

" I hope we shall all make a wise improvement of the dis- 
pensation of Providence to me at this time. I trust it will 
always put us in mind of our frailty, of our utter dependence ; 
so that we may walk humbly before God with fear and trem- 
bling all the days of our lives. At the same time, always 
remembering the infinite mercies by which my soul and body 
have been sustained, let us, at morning, and evening, and 
mid-day, bless and magnify His name who is our hope and 
salvation. If we are in adversity, let us ever be able to say, 
'It is good for us that we are afflicted;' if we are in pro- 
sperity, may it be the constant music of our souls, ' Not unto 
us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.' 

•" I hope you will not lend the Review out of the family : 
it would look like vanity. I expect^ that none of you will 
lend the copies of my poem which I sent you : let those who 
are curious either buy or want. — Yours, &c. 

« R. PoLLOK." 



34:8 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

On Wednesday, the 1 8th of July, he sailed for Aberdeen ; 
and arrived there the same day about six o'clock in the even- 
ing. The following letter,* which he wrote to Dr Belfrage 
three days after his arrival, will show how he thought he 
had stood the voyage to that town, and how he was accom- 
modated in it :-r- 

" Aberdeen, Saturday Evening. 
" My Dear Friend — I arrived safely at the New Inn, Aber- 
deen, about half-past six o'clock [on] Wednesday evening. 
On looking at Aberdeen I saw that it was a town of some miles 
of circumference; where to find Mr Angus j was hard to say. 
I was too needful of refreshment to hesitate. In five minutes 
I had tea before me — retired immediately [after it] to my 
bed-room, and after an hour and a half's repose, found myself, 
in every respect, fresher than when I left the Rev. Mr 
Brown's in the morning. By this time the evening had 
become damp. In the mean time I inclosed your letter in a 
note of my own for Mr Angus, stating that I should certainly 
have de[livered] your letter personally, but that the want of 
his address, as well as the fatigue of the long sail, had com*- 
pelled me to take the first inn. Soon after, I received a most 
polite card informing me that Mr Angus would wait on me 
next morning at half-past eight o'clock, when I should be 
able to accompany him to breakfast. 

* For this and other two letters to Dr Belfrage, I am indebted to the 
kindness of Miss Grindlay, his sister-in-law, who, on my application to her 
through the medium of a common friend, obligingly transmitted them to me 
for insertion. 

f The Rev. Henry Angus, minister of one of the United Secession con- 
gregations in Aberdeen, to whom he had received from Dr Belfrage, on 
leaving Slateford, a letter of introduction. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 349 

" I had not conversed an hour with Mr Angus when I 
could easily see that he possessed almost every quality that 
one could wish in a friend. He soon procured me exquisite 
lodgings, covenanting with me, at the same time, that I 
should dine and drink tea with him every day. 

" Such is the state of affairs. But what, after all, is Aber- 
deen for an invalid? It has no shore within five or six 
miles ; and how is an invalid to get so far ? I am exquisitely 
lodged, it is true, but in the heart of a smoky town. The 
banks of the Dee and the Don are the only rides that can 
possibly be endured. But before I can reach either, I must 
drive through a mile and a half of town. I have determined, 
if it be the will of Providence, to leave this lean, barren coun- 
try on Wednesday first, at six o'clock in the morning. I have 
several invitations from gentlemen in Perthshire ; two of 
which I received on the quay at Newhaven, just as I was 
going into the boat. But if I do take this route, I should 
necessarily be led into much company — more, I am afraid, 
than I should yet be able to stand. I am, therefore, just 
hesitating whether to take my passage straight to Edinburgh, 
and to go thence to some of the western coasts, where I have 
lived before, and where I could still live comfortably, and 
spend less money in a week than I do in [a] day here. I am, 
however, very fond to accept of my invitations in Perthshire. 
I should like to have your advice. If, on receiving this, you 
think a letter can reach me before Tuesday evening, I beg 
of you to write immediately ; and do not wait on reasoning ; 
be absolute in your commands, and they shall be obeyed. 

" My mind has not been an hour from Slateford since I 



350 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

left — the garden, the banks of the river, and so on. Remem- 
ber me kindly to your family, [and] to Mrs Monro and her 
daughters. — My dear friend, yours, with the greatest affec- 
tion and esteem, 

" R. POLLOK. 

" My address— Mrs Allan's, 64, Union Street, Aberdeen." 

Whether Dr Belfrage wrote, advising him to continue his 
stay at Aberdeen beyond the time at which he had " deter 
mined" to leave it, does not appear ; but instead of leaving it 
then, he prolonged his stay till the beginning of next month, 
when he wrote the following letter to Dr Belfrage, giving 
an account of the state of his health, and showing how he 
was passing his time : — 

" August 2, 1827. 
" Rev. and Dear Sir — I feel I have, in some measure, in- 
jured you, in being so long of telling you where and how I 
am : I am still in Aberdeen. I find the air here so conducive 
to the restoration of my health, that I am reluctant to leave 
the place. The fever has entirely left me. One morning, 
after breakfast, about eight days ago, I took a walk down to 
the quay. The tide was ebb, there was a strong wind, and 
the sea-air was remarkably strong. Before I got home I 
was seized with violent vomiting ; and continued, the whole 
day, to cough and throw, very much like a child in the last 
stage of the chin-cough. Indeed, the whole first week I re- 
sembled a child in the chin-cough ; and, I believe, rather lost 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 351 

than gained strength. I continued the farinaceous diet till 
the stomach refused to be any longer contented with it. * 
* * I now take a beef-steak between twelve and one, and 
find myself perfectly ready for dinner at half-past three, or 
four o'clock. At breakfast, tea, and supper, all of which I 
eat with excellent appetite, I take no animal food. 

" I have been thirty miles up the Dee ; and on Monday, 
Mr [William] Swan of Dunfermline, who is here on business, 
intends to proceed forty miles up that river — as far as Bala- 
ter. He has pressed me to go with him; we shall likely 
spend four or five days in that quarter. The air on the Dee 
is delightfully mild — quite different from the piercing winds 
of Aberdeen ; so mild is it, that almost all the wives and 
families of the gentlemen in Aberdeen are scattered, during 
summer, in the numberless cottages up and down its banks. 

" After arriving here, I soon found my wardrobe miser- 
ably deficient. The few articles which I brought with me, 
were sometimes almost all in requisition in a single day, so 
that I have been obliged to add very considerably to this 
article. My money ebbs fast ; but I think I have still as 
much as shall enable me to spend ten days or a fortnight 
here, and carry me rapidly through Perthshire, where I 
shall make only a few calls, and [then] return, by Dunferm- 
line, to Slateford. 

" Mr Angus continues his attention. I have found an in- 
valuable companion in Mr Scott, brother to my landlady ; he 
is brother also to Mrs Balmer of Berwick.* I have never 

* This lady is the wife of the Rev. Dr Robert Balmer, minister of the 
first United Secession congregation in Berwick-on-Tweed, and one of the 
Professors of Theology to the United Secession Church. 



352 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

met a young gentleman of higher accomplishments. He has 
accompanied me on almost all my rides ; and with him I have 
seen every thing worth seeing in Aberdeen, and for many 
miles around. He has also been the means of saving me a 
great deal of money, from his intimate acquaintance with the 
place. % My invitations multiply every day ; and I am abso- 
lutely astonished at the kindness and attention with which I 
am every where treated. I never go out to breakfast ; and 
I have not been one night out of my lodgings after eight 
o'clock since I left Slateford. 

" I have a strong desire to go to Italy during winter ; if 
any thing should fall in your way that may forward my wishes 
in this scheme, if you would take notice of it, you would lay 
me, if possible, under a still greater debt of gratitude. 

" I was glad that Mrs Robertson saw you so late as last 
Sabbath, and that you and the family are well. Mrs Robert- 
son's arrival is a great addition to my happiness. Kindest 
love to Mrs and Miss Grindlay, to Mr Belfrage, and to Mrs 
Monro and her daughters. 

" R. POLLOK. 

" I am extremely anxious to hear from you ; direct as for- 
merly, Mrs Allan's, 64, Union Street, Aberdeen." 

In a day or two after writing the above, he left Aberdeen, 
and returned by sea direct to Edinburgh ; and immediately on 
his arrival there, he wrote the following letter to his father, 
assigning his reason for returning from Aberdeen so quickly, 
and stating how he thought his visit to it had affected his 
constitution :— * 



THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 353 

" Rev. John Brown's, Rose Street, 
" Edinburgh, Aug. 7, 1827. 

" Dear Father — If the day is fine you may expect me home 
on Friday or Saturday first — Saturday is most likely. I 
shall make my yisit to Moorhouse only, so that, if any of my 
friends wish to see me, they must see me there. I wish you 
to make no invitations ; if you see any of my west country 
friends, you may let them know merely that, if it be the 
will of Providence, I shall he with you most of next [week,] 
at least till Thursday or Friday. 

" I had been frequently meditating- for two weeks, while I 
was in Aberdeen, about the means of getting to Italy during 
winter. I wrote to Dr Belfrage on the subject ; and I was 
astonished to receive a letter next morning, informing me 
that I. must return to Edinburgh immediately, as he had, 
with the co-operation of Sir John Sinclair and other gentle- 
men,* completed arrangements j" for my going to Florence 

* One of whom was the Rev. John Brown, who, from the time that Ro- 
bert preached to his congregation, took a deep and an active interest in 
his welfare. 

f In making these " arrangements," which were chiefly the raising of a 
fund for defraying his expenses, Sir John Sinclair took so active a part 
as to issue a printed circular among his friends to excite their interest in 
Robert's favour. A copy of this circular, with a few omissions, is inserted 
here. 

" Hints respecting a Poem recently Published, written by Robert 
Pollok, A.M., entitled ' The Course of Time.' — With a short Account of 
the Author, and Specimens of his Work. — By the Right Honourable Sir 
John Sinclair, Bart. — 

" By mere chance I heard that a work of great merit had been recently 
published by a young poet, (Mr Robert Pollok,) entitled, ' The Course of 
Time.' As I think it a duty incumbent upon those who are anxious to 
promote the literature of a country, to encourage talent whenever it 
appears, I lost no time in purchasing the work, and was delighted to find 

2g 



354 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

or Pisa during winter. This is the cause of my offering* you 
so short a visit, and also for confining the whole of that short 
time to Moorhouse. 

" My constitution has been wonderfully renovated by my 
visit to Aberdeen. 

" I think it is not likely that I can reach home before 
Saturday ; but, if God so will, Saturday forenoon. 

" R. PoLLOK ." 

that it displayed great marks of original genius. The conception is grand, 
the execution masterly, and on the whole, it seemed to me the most extra- 
ordinary production that had appeared for some time, more especially as 
connected with religious subjects. I was thence induced to enquire into 
Mr Pollok's history, of which I learned, from respectable authority, the 
following particulars : " 

[Here the circular states when and where Mr Pollok was born, at what 
University he studied, when his poem was published, and when he was 
licensed to preach, and then proceeds as follows :] " His health, however, 
had been so much impaired by his excessive exertions in preparing his 
poem for the press, and carrying on its printing, that, after a few trials, he 
has been under the necessity of relinquishing the labours of his profession ; 
and being threatened with complaints, which, in the opinion of some 
eminent physicians, render residence in a milder climate the most probable 
means of restoring his health, it has become indispensably necessary for 
him to repair to the Continent without delay. 

" The work has been fully as successful as, from its peculiar nature, 
could have been anticipated, the first edition having been already nearly 
disposed of. It has been favourably reviewed in various periodical publi- 
cations ; and, indeed, its transcendent beauties cannot be questioned by 
those who will take the trouble of a perusal. 

" It is difficult to give a just idea of such a poem by extracts; but the 
following passages will sufficiently prove that Mr Pollok's powers as a poet 
are of the highest order: " [These passages, which it is unnecessary to 
insert here, are headed in the circular as follows :~] 

"1. Character of Lord Byron, Abridged, Book 4, vol. i.* p. 184. — 2. 
Description of England and Scotland. Book 5, vol. i. p. 222. — 3. Evening 
Hymn in Paradise, Abridged. Book 6, vol. ii. p. 42." 

* The first edition of the poem was published in two volumes. 



THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 355 

Notwithstanding" he was a great deal worse on his return 
from his visit to Aberdeen than when he set out on it, as the 
handwriting of this letter painfully testifies, the well-meant 
design of sending him to Italy was adhered to ; and Robert 
himself used his characteristic expedition to hasten its ac- 
complishment. 

On Thursday, the 9th of August, he left Edinburgh by 
coach ; and that day, weak as he was, went to Glasgow, 
where he passed the night at an inn. Next morning he 
proceeded on his journey by a post-chaise. 

His coming home at this time, was an eyent of unusual 
and peculiarly affecting interest to the whole family at Moor- 
house. He had been longer away than ever he had been at 
one time before in all his life, having been absent for ten 
months ; and in that period he had accomplished two things 
of no ordinary interest in his history — publishing " The 
Course of Time " and receiving license to preach the gospel. 
In that same time too, he had been taken very ill, so that 
his life had been thought in imminent danger. Above all, 
he was still unwell, and was, after a stay of only a few days, 
to go away, for the recovery of his health, to a foreign land, 
from which it was feared he should not return. The joy and 
gladness at the thought of seeing him at Moorhouse, and 
the hope that he might yet be well, to be there often and 
long, were clouded and overshadowed by foreboding fears 
that this was to be his last visit to the home of his fathers. 

From the hour that his letter to his father arrived, his 
coming was anxiously waited for by all his friends at Moor- 
house ; and, as it was thought probable that he might reach 
home on the first of the two days mentioned in it, when- 



356 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

ever Friday the 10th of the month came, we began to look 
out for him. About mid-day, some one, more watchful than 
the rest, said, " There is a chaise : that will be Robert 
now;" and almost as soon as the words were uttered, the 
chaise came up with him to the door ; all in the house, old 
and young, running out, and gathering about it, eager to see 
him. Scarcely had we felt the first bound of joy at his 
arrival, when his look went to our heart with a pang. 
After asking for us all in his usual way, he walked into the 
room, and sat down beside " the old table at which" he 
<' used to write;" and, oh ! how affecting was it to see the 
man who had, in his ordinary health, only thirteen months 
before, finished there " The Course of Time," return so weak 
in little more than five months after its publication. 

Next day, his sister Mrs Gilmour having come to see him ? 
he told her that he wished her to go with him to Italy ; and 
to this she consented, but at the same time expressed a hope 
that he would yet be dissuaded from going to it, either by 
his friends at home, or by Dr Belfrage at Slateford. 

On Sabbath morning, several members of the family spoke 
of staying at home with him ; but he said he wished them 
all to go to church as usual, except his father, who alone 
remained with him. In the course of the day, he tried to 
dissuade him from going to Italy, and asked him if he would 
not be better, since he was so weak, just to stay at Moorhouse ; 
but when he did so, Robert was much grieved, or, to use his 
father's words, " he grew vexed," and said to him, " Would 
you not like to see me well ? " After that, no more was said 
on the subject. 

On Monday he wrote the following curious document, which 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 357 

it has been thought proper to insert here, as strongly evin- 
cing his affection for his father, and his solicitude about his 
comfort : — 

" Trust-deed to be held in the hands of David Pollok, preacher 

of the gospel, for and on account of Robert Pollok, also 

preacher of the gospel — Aug. 13, 1827. 

" 1. I, Robert Pollok, give you, my dear father, John 
Pollok, farmer, Moorhouse, Eaglesham, as a small token of 
my gratitude, the sum of five pounds sterling, to be appro- 
priated for the sole and only purpose of procuring you a 
man-servant from the above date till Martinmas coming 
next. 

" 2. The servant shall be of such ability of body, and of 
such activity and trust-worthiness of soul, as shall qualify 
him for taking your butter and milk to Glasgow, and going 
wherever you may think fit to send him with your horse and 
cart during the above specified hirelingship. 

" 3. The servant shall not be of Highland descent. 

" 4. The said servant shall, at each returning gang of 
milk, churn one of the churns. 

" 5. You, my dear father, are earnestly requested by me 
your son, from this date till the Martinmas afore-mentioned, 
not to go off the farm with any horse and cart whatever ; 
but to take good long sleeps nightly, and as much ease 
through the day as may be consistent with your bodily and 
spiritual welfare. 

" 6. I hereby appoint the above-mentioned David Pol- 
lok, my most affectionate brother and friend — to whom I 
could intrust a world if I had it — to hold this trust-deed ; 



358 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

to make inspection when he pleases, that he may know how 
these above-written items are attended to ; and may report 
to me as he shall in good truth and honesty find it. 
" Witness my own hand, 

" R. POLLOK. 

" Jean Pollok, witness. 

" Marion M. Campbell, witness." 

On Monday evening he told his father, who was going to 
Glasgow next day, to order a post-chaise to come to Moor- 
house the day following to take him and Mrs Gilmour into 
town ; and his father, contrary both to his judgment and his 
feelings, ordered one, which was, perhaps, the only thing 
that he ever did for him that it grieved him to do. 

On Tuesday, while conversing with me, he told me that a 
second edition of " The Course of Time" would soon be called 
for ; and that he would appoint me to superintend it. " But," 
said he, " I will appoint you by letter, that you may have the 
authority of my handwriting to show for correcting it." 

Early next day he wrote the following letter to a much- 
esteemed friend of his, Miss Mary Mather, South Moorhouse, 
to enable her to decide a matter of great interest to herself 
and her relations, in which she had asked his advice — being 
doubtful whether to go to America along with her father and 
mother, or stay behind them : — 

" Moorhouse, August 15, 1827. 
" My Dear and Long-beloved Friend — As I am extremely 
well this morning,* and have a little time on hand before the 

* Alas'! he only thought so ; he was " extremely" ill, as the handwriting 
jand diction of this very letter testify, through out. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 359 

chaise shall arrive here for me, I think it my duty to say 
a word or two to you. I do not mean to advise, but mere- 
ly to say that your disadvantages in America must be 
very [great.] I do not mean to speak of the bad effects 
which its extremely changeable climate might have on your 
constitution. At Philadelphia, a city very near Mr Gil- 
mour's, they have sometimes all temperatures in twentyrfour 
hours. I dislike the lean food that you would find offered to 
your soul in these regions, which, I can positively say, are 
ill supplied with { the bread ' of life ' which came down from 
heaven.' I would further say, that you need not fear to stay 
behind your earthly relations. The bread and water of the 
child of God are sure. The hairs of your head are num- 
bered. And just think of this expression : You are dear to 
him as the apple of his eye. ' I will never leave thee nor 
forsake thee,' says the great God of infinite love, wisdom, 
mercy, and power. Christ, our blessed Lord and Master, 
is * a friend that sticketh closer than a brother,' and hath 
told us to < take no' anxious 'thought for to-morrow;' but 
he says also, that we must sometimes leave father and mother, 
sister and brother, on his account. Look how he supported 
his faithful followers while on earth, and think how he has 
supported all his children before and since. 

" I can say experimentally, that when I arrived in Edin- 
burgh, [in the end of 1826,] I had only a shilling to pay 
[with] for [the carriage of] my trunk — knew no man ; but 
my trust was in God, my hope in the rock of my salvation, 
and he has [been] pleased to prosper me far above all my 
hopes. I would not give my literary property for £3000. 
iHe did afflict me a little; but, indeed, I scarcely knew if inr- 



360 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

deed I was afflicted, so many mercies were poured around me. 
' The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.' 

« R. Pollok."* 

When he had finished this letter, which was the last that 
he wrote at Moorhouse, he took his brother John and me 
into the room by ourselves, and enjoined us, if he did not 
return from Italy, to burn all his manuscripts. I said it 
would be a pity to burn them all, as some of them were worth 
preserving". He then authorized me to make a selection ; and 
on this I have acted in the construction of the present work. 

* For this letter I am indebted to the kindness of the lady to whom it is 
addressed, now Mrs James Steven, Dunlop, in Ayrshire. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 361 



CHAPTER XIII. 

On Wednesday tlie 15th of August, about mid-day, Robert, 
surrounded by all his relations, went out of his father's house, 
to take his departure, with the purpose of proceeding to Italy 
to pass the winter. On going out, after bidding me to 
accompany him in the chaise to Clarkston, where he was to 
take in his sister, Mrs Gilmour, he said to his father in a low 
tone of voice, " Father, come forward a short way with me, 
I will not shake hands with any of them but you." He then 
looked round with deep affection on the rest of his relations, 
standing in sadness about him, and said, " Farewell with you 
all;" and then took his seat beside me in the chaise, bidding 
the driver go on, and left Moorhouse, " whose very name 
sounded sacredly in his ear/' never to see it again. 

On proceeding about a quarter of a mile, to a steep place 
on the road called the Topped Hill's Brae, he bade the 
driver stop, and said to his father, " Father, you will not go 
down the brae ; I will shake hands with you here, and let you 
turn." He then shook hands with him, gazing on him with 
great filial affection, as he said, " Farewell, father ! " and 
parted with him for the last time. 

All the way from this to Clarkston, a distance of five miles, 
though extremely weak, he was in good spirits, and talked to 
me with his usual liveliness of his intended voyage to Italy, 
of the time which he thought, if all went well, he might stay 

2h 



362 . THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

in that country, and of the places there which he expected 
to see. In particular, he spoke with great enthusiasm of 
his projected " Review of Literature," and told me it was 
the only study that he would pursue in Italy. He said he 
intended, during his stay there, to digest and arrange the 
materials which he had already prepared for it — collect more 

draw out and fill up a complete outline of the work ; and 

when he had done that, he meant, he said, looking at me, and 
speaking with peculiar delight, " to come home to write it.'' 

Gn his arrival at Clarkston, five miles from Glasgow, I 
left the chaise, and his sister, Mrs Gilmour, who was waiting 
there in readiness to go along with him, took her seat in it 
beside him. When she had done so, I stooped into it, looking 
in his face, and said, with unutterable sorrow, " We never 
had a parting like this before ! " to which he answered, with a 
soothing affectionate smile, " No, but we will meet again." 
He then shook hands with me, and bade me farewell in his 
usual easy brotherly way, and we parted — parted at two 
o'clock in the afternoon of the 15th of August, after having 
been little separated from each other for nearly twenty-nine 
years, never to meet again in this world. 

In less than an hour after parting with me at Clarkston, he 
arrived in Glasgow ; and he passed the night in the Wheat 
Sheaf Inn, Clyde Terrace. Having ordered tea to be ready 
at five o'clock, and bespoke beds for himself and Mrs Gil- 
mour for the night, he went out with her to buy some 
articles which he needed for his journey. On his return, 
having partaken of this refreshment, he seemed a good deal 
revived ; but had soon after to betake himself to bed. 

In the evening, a deputation of the students of the United 
Secession Divinity Hall presented to him, as their late fellow- 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOE. 363 

student, a letter of congratulation, condolence, and sympathy, 
written by appointment the day before. The Rev. Dr David 
King, who was one of its number, has given an account of 
it in his letter to me of " Hall recollections" of him, part of 
which has been inserted above.- In introducing the account 
of it, he gives some interesting particulars respecting an 
interview which he had with Robert, on his way back from 
Aberdeen to Edinburgh, in the beginning of August. The 
whole is as follows : — 

" Your brother's fifth or last session at the Hall was my 
third. When I was leaving my native town, Montrose, to 
attend my fourth session, I unexpectedly met with him in the 
steam-vessel in which he had come from Aberdeen, and was 
proceeding to Leith. By that time he had been licensed to 
preach the gospel, and had preached, I believe, on several 
occasions ; by that time also his ' Course of Time ' had been 
published, and had been received with very marked and 
general favour. When I descried him in the steamer, I was 
struck with his appearance. The late production of his pen had 
excited high expectations of his future career ; and, as I had 
not heard of his being ill, I first learned the precariousness of 
these prospects by the emaciation and other attendants of con- 
sumption too apparent in his frame and countenance. He 
welcomed me on board very cordially, and, during the 
remainder of the voyage, talked with great cheerfulness and 
freedom on a diversity of subjects. The sale of his poem — its 
distinguishing qualities — the reviews of it which had appeared, 
were all frankly and leisurely discussed. He spoke with much 
feeling of Hall transactions, and particularly of his fellow- 
students ; and I was much pleased to notice that his remarks 
about students, with whom he had differed most frequently 



364 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

in opinion, were of the kindest and most candid description. 
His future intentions were likewise a theme of conversation : 
after such a time he was to take appointments as a preacher ; 
on such and such subjects he was preparing to write; and while 
hearing of these premeditated undertakings, it was impossible 
not to contrast, with sad interest, his proved mental capacity 
for prosecuting magnificent designs, with the manifest cor- 
poreal threatenings of an early dissolution. 

" When we left the vessel, I lost sight of him amidst the 
crowd at the quay, but overtook him on Leith Walk. He 
was ascending its continuous steep with languid step. I 
went up to him and gave him my arm, on which he remarked 
to me, ' I have got quite exhausted with that long sail;' and 
added, i Did you observe that I had a great-coat over my 
arm ? ' I replied that I did. * Well,' he resumed, ' I found 
it so cumbrous that I have been obliged to leave it by the 
way/ Having accompanied him to the Rev. Dr Brown's 
house in Edinburgh, where he was to pass the night, I there 
parted from him. 

" As soon as the students were convened in Glasgow, I 
took the earliest opportunity of proposing to them, having 
become acquainted, in the manner which has been stated, 
with the affecting circumstances of the case, that a letter 
should be sent to Mr Robert Pollok, congratulating him on 
the merits and success of his poem, and expressing our sym- 
pathetic concern for his illness. The proposal was agreed 
to, not only without a dissenting voice, but with every indi- 
cation of enthusiastic unanimity. The writing of the letter 
fell to the individual who had been led to propose it ; and a 
deputation of our number were appointed to present it to 
him as he was passing the day after through Glasgow. When 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 365 

it was intimated to him at the inn where he had put up, that 
a deputation waited on him from the United Secession 
Hall, we were told in reply, that he was not then receiving 
many visitants, but could not deny himself the pleasure of 
meeting" with such a deputation ; and if, therefore, we would 
step, meanwhile, into another apartment, he would, in a few 
minutes, see us in his bed-room. On entering it we found 
him in bed, and evidently much worse than when I last saw 
him. However, his spirits rose as he talked with us : with 
the honour which was done him, he seemed particularly 
gratified ; and, after reiterating his strong sense of the kind- 
ness of the Hall, he told us that he could not trust himself 
to write a reply, at the moment, to the letter which we had 
presented, but would assuredly acknowledge it in writing 
before many days elapsed. 

" He still spoke of his prospects and intentions, but not so 
confidently as when I last met with him ; and repeatedly, 
when he thought he had spoken too strongly, he subjoined 
the qualification, ' If I get better.' It was altogether a 
solemn interview. The return of the Hall season, and the 
circumstance of meeting in Glasgow as in former autumns, 
vividly recalled the energetic eloquence with which, twelve 
months before, he had been addressing his fellow-students : 
and now he was stretched on a bed of languishing ; and the 
interest which his immortal poem attached to his life, increased 
the sorrow with which we contemplated the significant pre- 
cursors of its approaching close. It was affeetingly evident 
that he was e going the way of all the earth;' and that, in 
composing his celebrated work, he had erected a monument 
for himself to grace an early grave. After conversing about 
his purpose of going to Italy, and the happiness of Christians 



366 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

in looking forward to ' a better country/ we bade him adieu 
— a final adieu, I doubted not, as far as that time was con- 
cerned of which he had portrayed the course with such dis- 
tinguished ability. 

" Such are a few recollections of your gifted brother. I am 
sensible that they are very scattered and imperfect, and that, 
if they possess any interest at all, they must derive it from 
the interest attaching to the person to whom they relate. 
The exploits of his genius can be imitated by few. His life 
and death are instructive to us all, teaching us to be followers- 
of him wherein he was a follower of Christ, and giving all 
diligence to make our calling and election sure, that so an 
entrance may be ministered to us abundantly into the hea- 
venly kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. — I am, 
my dear sir, yours very sincerely, 

" David King/' 

The letter, presented to him, is inserted here as a token 
of the interest which the students of the United Secession 
Divinity Hall took in the success of his poem, and especially 
as a memorial of their " brotherly love" towards their late 
fellow-student. 

(s To Mr Robert Pollok, Preacher of the Gospel. 

" United Secession Divinity Hall, 
" Glasgow, 14th Aug. 1827. 
" Dear Brother — It has long been a cause of regret to the 
pious mind, that poetical genius should be generally misdi- 
rected, and that the highest efforts of intellect and imagina- 
tion should be rendered subservient to the propagation of 
vice. The pernicious consequences of such prostitution are 



THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 367 

certainly extensive and alarming. It is, therefore, gratifying 
that there have been exceptions to this general lamentable 
truth — that there have been master-minds which have exerted 
their mighty powers in ' vindicating the ways of God to 
man.' But how enthusiastic does this pleasure become when 
such genius arises in splendour from among ourselves, kind- 
ling its fire at the altar of God, and striking its harp to 
the immortal songs of Zion ! 

" Our satisfaction is too strong not to be expressed. Con- 
vinced that, from its depth and accuracy of theological 
views, its purity of moral sentiment, and the brilliancy of its 
genius, i The Course of Time ' is a work of the very highest 
merit ; and feeling that the distinguished honour which it 
confers on its author is not confined to himself, but is reflected 
on that theological seminary in which he was lately our fel- 
low-student, and on that Church to which we mutually 
belong ; we cannot refrain from offering you an expression at 
once of our highest admiration and strongest gratitude. 

" But our gratification, dear brother, is mingled with 
heartfelt sorrow, that your state of health is such as to 
require your removal to a more genial climate. May He 
who alone sendeth sickness and restoreth health, render 
effective the means which are employed for your recovery ; 
may He be your guide and comforter while in a foreign 
land ; and may He soon restore you, in health, to your coun- 
try, to your friends, and to the Church. — We are, dear 
brother, yours very affectionately, in name of the Hall, 

" Geo. Hill, Pres* 
" David King, Secy." 

From the time that the deputation left him, till late at 

* Late minister of the United Secession congregation, Musselburgh. 



368 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

night, one of his warmest and most intimate friends among 
his fellow-students — Mr David C. Browning, now minister 
of one of the United Secession congregations in Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne— affectionately attended him, cheered and re- 
freshed him by his presence and conversation, and rendered 
himself serviceable to him in various ways in making some 
arrangements for the prosecution of his journey. 

Early next morning Robert left the inn in a noddy, to take 
the canal boat for Edinburgh ; and his friend Mr Browning 
accompanied him to Port-Dundas, and did not leave him 
till after seeing him safe in the boat. At seven o'clock he 
left Port-Dundas, intending to go to Edinburgh that day; 
but he suffered so much in the boat from its closeness, and from 
its shocks against the banks of the canal, that, on reaching 
Port-Downie, near Falkirk, which was about one o'clock in 
the afternoon, he went to pass the night in an inn, resolved 
to go no further by the canal. Immediately on reaching it, 
he betook himself to bed in a state of great exhaustion ; and 
lay from that time till the evening, when he rose to tea, sat 
a few minutes, and then went to bed again. His appetite, 
however, was bad, and his sleep disturbed. 

Next day he proceeded by a stage-coach to Edinburgh ; 
and, on his arrival there, he went to the Rev. John Brown's, 
Rose Street, where he was to pass the night, and was obliged 
from fatigue to go immediately to bed. 

The day following, at the request of his kind entertainer, 
Dr Brown, he sat for his portrait, which was finished at two 
or three short sittings. This portrait, which was executed 
by Daniel Macnee, Esq., is a correct likeness of him at the 
time when it was taken, being then very thin and weak, and 
feverish-looking ; but he had, when in health, much more 
boldness, intelligence, and expressiveness of look than it gives 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 369 

him. On the whole, however, it is a very good likeness of 
him, especially from the top of the cheekbone upwards, where 
he was least changed in appearance ; and as it is the only 
portrait for which he ever sat, much gratitude is due to Dr 
Brown for getting it taken, and for permitting an engraving 
from it to be prefixed to " The Course of Time " and the 
present Memoir. 

The same day, leaving Mrs Gilmour in Dr Brown's, he 
went out by a post-chaise to Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, where 
he remained till Tuesday following, the 21st of August; 
and, during that period, it was agreed that he should sail for 
London on the 22d. 

On Monday morning, Mrs Gilmour, according to his 
directions, went out to Slateford to pass the day with him 
there ; and she found him, she says, " still weak and restless, 
and not able to be out of bed or off the sofa for half an hour 
at a time." In the course of the day he received a visit from 
the venerable Henry Mackenzie, Esq., author of " The Man 
of Feeling," and was much gratified by it. 

In the evening, his two most intimate friends, the Rev. 
Robert Pollok and Mr David Marr, visited him together. 
Of this visit Mr Pollok, the survivor of the two visitants, 
gives the following affecting account in a letter to me : — 

" Manse of Buckhaven, 4th May 1840. 

" My Dear Sir — In compliance with your request, I write to 
give you an account of Mr Marr's visit and mine to your 
brother Robert at Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, two days before 
he left Scotland for London. 

" Mr Marr was then a licentiate of our church, and he 
and I met, by agreement, at Mid-Calder. On our way 



370 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thence to Edinburgh, we called at Slateford, to have, as 
we very much apprehended, our last interview with your 
brother. Unhappily he was confined to bed at the time, 
and was feeling considerable uneasiness from the medical 
treatment under which he had needed to be placed, and 
from the fatigues of his farewell visit to his friends in the 
west. To prevent the increase of excitement in his system, 
we were requested, by Dr Belfrage, to qualify our conversa- 
tion with him, and shorten as much as possible the time of 
our interview. Our conversation with him was chiefly about 
the state of his health, his proposed visit to the Continent, 
and the probable benefit which he might derive from it. 

" After conversing with him a short time, we found it 
necessary to terminate our interview, that he might not be 
excited and exhausted by it. I believe we both felt, though 
we were forbidden to gay so, that this would most probably 
be our last farewell with him ; and that the Triumvirate — a 
name by which, as you know, your brother, and Mr Marr, 
and myself had, for some years previous, at times calle4 
ourselves — would soon be dissolved ; one member of it, the 
most precious and its brightest ornament, was about to be 
laid low in the dust, just when the perio4 of his usefulness 
had arrived, and an imperishable token of his high worth 
had been put into the hands of men. 

" I do not need to say that, as we approached Slateford 
to see your brother, during our stay with him there, and after 
we left him, very singular and ineffable emotions swelled 
our hearts. Our sadness at parting with him, and the aspect 
of that day, are yet fresh in my memory ; nor will any event, 
down to the latest period of my life, be able to efface them. 
As we left Slateford, the shades of the evening were begin- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 371 

ning to fall ; the sky was dull and cloudy ; the wind came 
from the east, and carried along with it a thick and pestife- 
rous mist from the sea ; the air was very chilly and cold, and 
it blew right in our faces as we walked to Edinburgh. The 
depression of our spirits was increased by the bleakness of 
the day. Many a road had my friend Marr and I gone together, 
but I think this was the most silent and the most solemn. 

" Such are some of my recollections of Mr Marr's visit and 
mine to your brother at Slateford, and of my last interview 
with him, for I never saw him again. If they should be of 
any use to you in his Life, I shall be very happy. I am, my 
dear friend, yours as ever faithfully, 

" Robert Pollok." 

In the course of Monday, while he was in bed, or engaged 
with visitants, Mrs Gilmour tried, according to her inten- 
tion when she left Moorhouse, to prevail on Dr Belfrage to 
dissuade him from going to Italy, and advise him to return 
home, urging his obvious unfitness for travelling, and express- 
ing her unwillingness, on that account, to go any further 
with him. But the Doctor, admitting his unfitness for going 
to Italy, said to her that, all circumstances considered, it 
would be best to allow him to proceed to London ; and that 
himself and his medical friends in Edinburgh would write 
to some of the physicians in the metropolis, to send him 
to a genial place in the south of England, as the best 
thing that could be done for the recovery of his health : 
at the same time he enjoined her not to tell him this, 
but to proceed with him to London as if they were going 
to the Continent. Mrs Gilmour then remonstrated against 
letting Robert proceed to the south of England, and Dr 



372 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

Belfrage said, " It would be a pity not to let him go there : 
it would be like taking the last plank from a drowning man." 
On Tuesday morning he wrote the following document, 
which is rather curious from its will-like formality, appoint- 
ing me corrector of the press for the second edition of " The 
Course of Time." 

" Slateford, August 21, 1827. 
" I, Robert Pollok, being advised by my physicians to go 
abroad for some time, for the recovery of my health, hereby 
appoint you, David Pollok, sole corrector of the next edition 
of my poem, < The Course of Time ; ' and you are hereby 
bound to make no alteration, in words, except such as I shall 
mark on a copy of the work, and leave in the hands of Dr 
Belfrage." 

Having made a few verbal corrections on a copy of the 
work, he left it with Dr Belfrage. On one of its blank 
leaves there was the following notice in his handwriting :— 

" Copy of ' The Course of Time,' corrected by the Author, 
from which nothing is to be added or parted. 

" R. Pollok. 
« For David Pollok." 

About eleven o'clock on Tuesday forenoon, accompanied 
by Dr Belfrage and Mrs Gilmour, he left Slateford in a 
post-chaise, and went to the Rev. John Brown's, Edinburgh, 
where he was to pass the night, preparatory to sailing for 
London next morning. 

Soon after his arrival at Dr Brown's, he received some 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 373 

materials for writing from Sir John Sinclair, accompanied 
with the following note and memorandum, which are inserted 
here as testimonials of the right honourable baronet's atten- 
tions to him : — 

" Sir John Sinclair thinks it right to send Mr Robert 
Pollok materials for writing, the want of which is often felt 
by travellers ; also cards for writing his name when he settles 
at Leghorn or any other place. 

" 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 
20th August 1827." 

" Memorandum for Mr Robert Pollok. 

" 1. Sir John Sinclair has written to his son, George Sin- 
clair, Esq., to endeavour to get letters in favour of Mr Pollok, 
to the British consuls at Leghorn, Genoa, Pisa, and Naples, 
from John Backhouse, Esq., under-secretary of state at the 
foreign department. It would be most material to get them. 

2. But the great object is, to get the assistance of the 
Literary Fund for the expenses of the journey ; and for that 
purpose, it is of the utmost importance that Mr Pirie should 
see, in person, Mr George Sinclair and Sir Benjamin Hob- 
house, with as little delay as possible. 

" 3. Mr Pollok should take a copy or two of his work 
with him — one for corrections. 

" 4. Remember the 'muffler' in cold and damp weather, 
particularly at sea. " J. S. 

" 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 
20th August 1827." 

Soon after going to Edinburgh, he made a will respecting 



3 74 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

" The Course of Time," and his manuscript poetry. By this 
will, of which he appointed the Rev. Dr Belfrage and the 
Rev. Dr Brown executors, his father was his principal lega- 
tee ; and it is gratifying to he able to state, that, according 
to his " trust," expressed in his letter to me of the 31st of 
October 1824, giving " the history of" his " perplexity," 
God rewarded the sire by his son. 

After making his will, accompanied by Dr Brown he called 
on Sir John Sinclair, to thank him for his many kind atten- 
tions ; and the right honourable baronet, with his amiable 
daughters, received him courteously, and treated him with 
much consideration and respect. While making arrange- 
ments for his departure next morning, he received letters 
from Dr Belfrage and some of his medical friends in Edin- 
burgh, to several of the medical gentlemen in London, and 
a letter of introduction from Dr Brown to John Pirie, Esq., 
late Lord Mayor of London, in whose house he was to live 
during his stay in the metropolis. 

It seems worthy of being mentioned here, as showing the 
attention which was paid to him in Edinburgh, that, during 
the day, upwards of twenty gentlemen and ladies called on 
him at Dr Brown's, some of them to see him for the first 
time, others to give him letters of introduction to their friends, 
and all of them, in bidding him farewell, to wish him a pros- 
perous voyage. 

A few of these letters, which, from want of opportunity, 
were not given away, are now in my possession. One of 
them is from his publisher, Mr Blackwood, and it deserves 
insertion here, as showing the generous interest which that 
gentleman felt in him. It is as follows : — 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 375 

" To Mrs Bell, 
" Aux Soins de Messrs Lewis Wolfe et Co., 
" Florence, Italie. 
" Honoured by the Rev. R. Pollok. 

" Edinburgh, 20th August 1827. 
" Dear Madam — I hope you have ere now received my letter 
of the 6th of July. 

" The reason of my now addressing you is, that a very 
dear friend of mine, the Rev. Robert Pollok, is on the point 
of setting off for Italy for the recovery of his health ; and, as 
he will probably take up his residence somewhere in your 
neighbourhood, I feel very anxious he should have the plea- 
sure of knowing you, as I am sure you will feel an interest 
in him, both for his own sake, and as a sick countryman to 
whom any little attention in a foreign land will be so grateful. 

" ]y[ r Pollok is the author of a very remarkable poem, 
' The Course of Time,' which, I regret now, I did not send 
you with the other books in Mr Mollini's parcel. I sent a 
copy to Mr M. ; and you will see a review of it in the June 
number of my Magazine. The critic, it is generally thought, 
has not done the author sufficient justice ; but the extracts 
speak for themselves. My venerable friend Mr Henry Mac- 
kenzie, and a number of our first literary men here, have 
taken the greatest [interest] in Mr Pollok on account of their 
high admiration of his poem. 

" Should Mr Pollok be so fortunate as to have the honour 
of meeting with you, I hope you will find him in better health 
than he is at present ; and that you will thank me for intro- 
ducing him to you; — I am, Madam, your very respectful and 
most obedient servant, 

" Wi Blackwood. 

" Mrs Bell." 



378 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

In the evening, when he had completed his preparations 
for departure, Mr David Marr having called on him at Dr 
Brown's, and spent several hours with him and Mrs Gilmour 
in a room by themselves, he brought out from a trunk a great 
number of letters, which he had received in the course of 
years from different correspondents, and he and his friend 
burned them together, unfolding them, and laying them on 
the fire, one after another, in close succession, for a quarter 
of an hour or twenty minutes. This incident will account 
for so few of the letters of correspondents appearing in the 
Life. 

Having burned these, Robert proposed, though it was then 
a late hour, that they should take a drive in a hackney- 
coach before parting, and having immediately called one, 
they set out in it together. On their return, which was 
near midnight, they told Mrs Gilmour that they had taken a 
circuit of several miles, partly about town, and partly into the 
country ; and, as Mr Marr was going away, Robert told him 
to come back next morning by six o'clock, to accompany him 
to Newhaven to see him sail for London ; and enjoined him, 
on that account, to sleep in an inn near Dr Brown's. 

Next morning at six o'clock he left Dr Brown's, without 
Mr Marr, who had not come forward at the hour appointed, 
and went down in a chaise to Newhaven to sail by the steam- 
boat Soho, for London. He waited some time before 
going out to the steamer, which lay a considerable way from 
the pier, in expectation of seeing Mr Marr to bid him fare- 
well ; but he had to go out to it at last, without seeing him, 
and was a good deal disappointed. A little after he went on 
board, while standing on deck looking towards the pier, he 
perceived a small boat, rowed by two men, with a gentleman 
sitting astern, making rapidly towards the vessel ; and in- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 377 

stantly said to Mrs Gilmour, with great joy, " Yon will be 
Mr Marr!" In a few minutes after, his friend came on 
board the steam-vessel, and seized him rapturously by the 
hand, expressing great joy that he had reached the steam- 
boat to bid him farewell ; telling him, at the same time, as 
his reason for not appearing at the hour appointed to ac- 
company him to Newhaven, that, contrary to his injunction, 
he had gone the night before to sleep at the house of an 
acquaintance, at a distance from Dr Brown's, and had over- 
slept himself. After talking together a few minutes, Robert 
and he shook hands, and bade one another farewell. Mr 
Marr then left the steam-vessel in the small boat ; and all 
the way, as he was going ashore, waved his hat to Robert, 
who stood on deck, waving his handkerchief to him in 
return, till he disappeared among the people at the end of 
the pier. 

Thus parted for the last time, after a friendship of ten 
years, these two familiar friends, of whom it may be truly 
said, that each loved the other as he loved himself. It seems 
worthy of notice, that Robert's most intimate and loving 
friend, Mr David Marr, was the last of all his friends who 
parted with him on leaving his native country never to re- 
turn. 

About nine o'clock in the morning of Wednesday the 22d 
of August, Robert sailed from Newhaven for London ; and 
on the passage, which was an unusually rough one for the 
season, he underwent a great deal of suffering. Notwith- 
standing he was free from sea-sickness, as he was never sub- 
ject to it, he suffered much from the rolling and pitching of 
the vessel, from the beating and quivering of the engine, and 
from the proximity of sea-sick passengers. Below, he suf- 

2i 



378 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

fered from want of air ; above, from wind and smoke, and 
every where, from the motion of the vessel. Soon after sail- 
ing he became so weak and feverish that he needed one to 
attend him almost constantly ; but Mrs Gilmour was so sea- 
sick, especially the first day of the passage, that she rather 
needed his attention than was able to give him any. Provi- 
dentially, a lady who had been introduced to him in the Rev. 
John Brown's, namely, Miss Benson, from Thorne in York- 
shire, was a passenger along with him, and not being so ill 
as Mrs Gilmour, kindly attended to him, and very much alle- 
viated his suffering, which he bore all along with character- 
istic endurance, without fretting or complaining. 

At noon on Friday the 24th of August, he landed from 
the steam-boat at Blackwall, in the suburbs of London, but 
was so much exhausted with the voyage that he was obliged 
to go to bed for an hour in an inn before he could proceed 
to the city. At one o'clock in the afternoon he arose and pro- 
ceeded by a chaise to London ; and on his arrival there he 
went, as directed by Dr Brown, to Camberwell, to the house of 
John Pirie, Esq., who kindly received him and Mrs Gilmour, 
and entertained them hospitably during their stay in the 
metropolis. His friends take this opportunity of expressing 
their most grateful acknowledgments for their kind attention. 

On arriving at Camberwell, he was informed that a ship 
called the Amy was likely to sail from London on the 28th 
of the month for Leghorn, the town to which he intended to 
go, and that another one would not sail thence to the same 
place for three weeks. On receiving this intelligence, and 
being desirous to proceed to Italy as soon as possible, he 
determined to sail by the Amy, and sent immediately to the 
post-office the letters which he had brought from Edin- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 379 

burgh to medical gentlemen in London, that he might con- 
sult them on the state of his health. 

Next day he wrote to me the following letter, announcing 
his arrival, and stating what kind of passage he had : — 

" London, Aug. 25, 1827. 
" My Dear Brother — We arrived in London yesterday. 
Our passage from Newhaven was exceedingly rough. A 
steam-hoat has a rolling motion from side to side, while a 
packet rides beautifully over the waves. The captain said 
he had not made so rough a passage during the whole year. 
I was somewhat fatigued, but recover fast. Jean was very 
sea-sick. I do not know yet when we leave London. Mr 
Pirie's establishment is like the establishment of a prince. 

[No Signature.] 

" N.B.— You will find the corrected copy of my poem at 
Dr Belfrage's." 

The same day that he wrote this letter, which was his last 
to me, he secured, through the agency of Mr Pirie, accom- 
modation in the ship Amy for himself and Mrs Gilmour to 
Leghorn. From that time till the 28th of the month, when 
the Amy was expected to sail, he was busily employed, when 
able to be out of bed, in visiting some of the principal 
places in London, in calling on those to whom he had letters 
of introduction, and in purchasing a number of articles which 
he needed for his voyage ; so that he was kept, with one 
thing and another, in a state of bodily and mental excite- 
ment bordering on fever. 

Among the public buildings which he visited in that time, 



380 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

St Paul's and Westminster Abbey were the principal ; and 
in the latter, Mrs Gilmour says he went no further than 
Poet's Corner. 

On the 28th of the month, he was told that the sailing 
of the Amy would be put off till the evening of the 30th, 
so that he had" two days to rest. It was then that Robert 
wrote the following' letter to the students of the United 
Secession Divinity Hall, in answer to the one which he re- 
ceived from them, on his way through Glasgow in the middle 
of the month, and to which he had not found it convenient 
sooner to reply : — 

" To the Students of the United Secession Theo- 
logical Hall, Glasgow. 

" London, Aug. 30, 1827. 
" Dear Friends and Brethren — I received your letter 
with great pleasure and satisfaction. So early and so high 
approbation of my work, although in this last I think you 
have somewhat exceeded, cannot fail to keep alive in my 
heart the warmest feelings of gratitude to every one of you, 
and to bring daily to remembrance our intimate brotherly 
connexion, our studying under the same venerable master, 
that wherever we are, our interest, our honour, our glory 
are one. I thank you for the manner in which you notice 
my health — < the prayer of the righteous availeth much.' 

" I am glad to be able to say, that, notwithstanding a very 
rough and fatiguing passage to London, I recover daily. 
This evening, or to-morrow morning at longest, we embark 
for Genoa and Leghorn : vessel Amy, Captain Bloomfield. 
In parting, let me — or rather let us exhort one another to 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 381 

'live soberly and righteously and godly in this present 
world' — ' steadfast and immovable, always abounding in the 
work' of our gracious Lord and Master Jesus Christ: so 
that when he, the ' chief Shepherd, shall appear,' we ' also 
may appear with him in glory,' with crowns of unfading 
lustre, which he ' shall give unto us and and all those that 
love [his appearing] at that day/ 

* « R. POLLOK." * 

Of the same date is a letter from Mrs Gilmour to her 
father, the following parts of which 5 it is thought, may be 
interesting to the reader : — 

" London, Aug. SO, 1827. 
" Dear Father — On Friday, (the 24th,) we passed through 
London to Camberwell ; where we have remained since in 
John Pirie's, Esq., sea-merchant, whose house and equipage 
remind me of ancient Tyre, * whose merchants were princes.' 

" Robert has not been dissuaded from going to Italy, and 
our passage is taken in the trading ship Amy, which is to 
sail this evening or to-morrow morning. The captain's name 
is Bloomfield, an honest respectable character ; and we are 
to have the best accommodation in the vessel. 

" This going to Italy is quite different from my intention 
when I left Clarkston ; but I have been urged by some, and 
applauded by others ; and particularly I have been induced 
by the state of Robert's health, which requires some 
friend to go with him : otherwise I would not go for the 
world to the land of graven images, to a people whose lan- 
guage we know not, and whose manners are so different from 

* For a copy of this letter, I am indebted to Dr David King, to whom, 
as secretary of the Students' Society at that time, the original was addressed. 



382 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. 

our own. But the thing that encouraged me most was what 
Dr Belfrage told me ; namely, that we were not to go to 
Italy, hut to the south of England, as the only means that 
could save Robert ; and of course, it was natural to try it. 

" Robert is scarcely ever displeased with me except when 
I show reluctance to go to Italy ; which henceforth I intend 
not to do. I leave a little room for him, and remain, yours,, 
&c. &c. * 

" Jean Pollok." 

At the end of this letter, Robert wrote to his father as 
follows : — 

" Dear Father — We arrived safe in London on Friday at 
mid-day, and notwithstanding the roughness of the passage, 
which was the roughest the captain made this season, I 
sustained it well. I have seen much of London. We have 
fine accommodations for Italy, and intend to sail to-morrow. 
I have had some work to keep Mrs Gilmour to the point. 
We shall likely be four or five weeks at sea : ship's name 
Amy, captain Bloomfield, for Genoa and Leghorn. We shall 
write as soon as we land. Have you got a man ? — see to that. ,? 

[No signature.] 

The same day he wrote to Dr Belfrage, giving him ait 
account of their voyage to London, as follows : — 

" London, Aug. SO, 1827. 
" Rev. and Dear Sir— I suppose Miss Benson has told you 
something of our voyage hither. First day, I was extremely 
well, and enjoyed the rough and tempestuous tossing very 
much. After dinner, I went down to take a nap ; soon fell 



THE LIFE OE ROBERT POLLOK. 383 

asleep ; and soon awoke, feeble and exhausted. I immediately 
called one of the stewards, who frankly told me, what I had 
indeed discovered, that there was little or no air in the 
place where I had purposed to sleep. An hour or two on 
deck, however, recovered (me from) this dreadful suffocation. 
At night, I tried to sleep in the dining cabin ; but towards 
midnight it became so hot with steam, that I -was obliged 
to rise, dress, and sit up the whole night. Next day, from 
want of sleep and (from) fatigue, passed drearily: how to 
manage the night I knew not. After much consultation 
with the captain and a Dr Kirk, who was on board, I got an 
excellent place beside the doctor and some of the captain's 
friends ; where we were altogether out of the reach of the 
steam. Dr Kirk, a very fine gentleman, who has made 
several voyages to the East Indies, gave me a sedative 
draught ; and, in the course of half an hour, I felt myself 
infinitely refreshed; and I had a night's good sleep."* 

It was providential, as the sequel will show, that the sailing 
of the Amy was put off from the 28th till the 30th of August. 
From the time that Robert arrived in London up to that day, 
three medical gentlemen there, to whom he had received 
letters from Edinburgh, had called at Mr Pirie's to see 
him; but, unhappily, he was not within on any of these 
occasions ; so that he adhered to his purpose of going to 
Italy, for which, ever after his return from Aberdeen, he was 
manifestly unfit. But as yet Dr Gordon, a London physician, 
to whom he had been particularly recommended, and to 
whom he had brought a letter from Edinburgh, had not called 
on him ; and on the 30th, after the two letters inserted im- 

* The rest of this letter has not been transmitted for insertion. 



384 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 

mediately above were written, it struck him that he should 
see him if possible before leaving- London, and so sent 
for him. In an hour afterwards he received a visit from that 
gentleman, who — after telling him that his reason for not 
calling sooner was, that owing to the indefiniteness of the 
address given him in the letter from Edinburgh, he had not 
been able, after seeking two days, to find out Mr Pirie's 
house, and that he had written for a more definite address- 
entered freely and feelingly into conversation with him re- 
specting the state of his health. In a little while, he 
told him mildly and soothingly, but quite plainly, that he 
was not able at the time to go to Italy; adding, that it 
would require a person much stronger than he was to 
stand the heat of that country, as well as the fatigue of a 
voyage to it. Upon this, Robert said to Dr Gordon that he 
would no longer think of going to it were it not that the 
fares had been paid for his passage and his sister's to Leg- 
horn ; but the Doctor told him mildly, that he must not 
concern himself about that, and immediately spoke on the 
subject to Mr Pirie, who promised to make application at 
the proper quarter, and get back at least one-half of the pas- 
sage-money. Whenever he heard that, giving 8 up at once his 
design of going to the Continent, he said to Mrs Gilmour, 
who " never saw him look so happy-like " — " We will get 
some rest now." Having asked Dr Gordon where then he 
would advise him to go, he was recommended to some quiet 
retired place a few miles from town ; but it was afterwards 
arranged that he should proceed to Southampton, seventy-six 
miles south-west from London. Thus ended suddenly, unex- 
pectedly, and providentially, his design of visiting Italy. 



THE LIFE OF RQBEFvT POLLOK. 385 



CHAPTER XIV. 

On Friday the 31st of August, early in the forenoon, Robert 
left London for Southampton, and, though he was so weak 
that he could not sit up in the carriage without Mrs Gil- 
mour's support, he travelled that day to Alton, a distance of 
fifty miles. He passed the night in an inn ; went early to 
bed, but slept little or none ; and next morning, after break- 
fast, proceeding on his journey, he arrived at Southampton 
about mid-day. After resting himself a little he called a 
coach, and went to look for lodgings a short way out of 
town. The coachman recommended him to a Mr Hyde's, 
Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about a mile out of South- 
ampton, where he found most commodious and comfortable 
lodgings, with an agreeable landlord and landlady, in a neat, 
clean, well-aired cottage, delightfully situated, with a plea- 
sant garden to which he might retire when he pleased. 

This journey from London to Southampton, which was the 
last that he undertook, and which was accomplished in a day 
and a half, seemed to exhaust any little strength that was left 
to him. 

On completing this journey, on Saturday the 1st of Sep- 
tember, which, Mrs Gilmour says, was as beautiful a day, 
with as unclouded a sky as she ever saw, he was so much fa- 
tigued, that on taking up his lodgings at Mr Hyde's he found 

2k 



386 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

it necessary to go to bed, but was both sleepless and restless. 
Next day, Sabbath, he was mostly out of bed, and seemed 
occasionally to have more ease than he had had for some 
time before ; but he spoke now and then of the effects of 
his long 1 journey from London, and was very weak and fever- 
ish. In the course of the day, which was extremely fine, he 
took a walk out on Shirley Common, that he might " feel," 
as he said, " the fresh breezes of heaven," and he was greatly 
delighted both with the situation of the place and with the 
mildness and salubrity of the air. Mrs Gilmour accompanied 
him on his walk, carrying a cushion, which he bought 
himself in London, in the one hand, and the Bible in the 
other ; and laying down the cushion every now and then, he 
sat on it and rested himself, while she read to him. 

For three or four days after that, though he was highly 
fevered and grew gradually worse, he was out of bed, less 
or more, and was able to sit out on a chair, or walk a little 
in the garden, which was a most delightful place, con- 
taining a great variety of fruit ; and Mrs Hyde kindly told 
him he was welcome to any of it at pleasure, but he would 
not take any himself, and made her weigh a few fine apples 
to him, lest, as he said, he might be tempted, they were 
so inviting, to take them at his own hand. Mrs Gilmour says, 
" If any thing on this earth might now be compared to 
Paradise, it was this place; and Eobert seemed to enjoy it 
very much, walking and sitting in it alternately; while the 
air was so mild and placid that you could hear the apples 
falling from the trees one after another." 

By the 5th or 6th of September, however, four or five 
days after going to Southampton, he became so weak that he 
was obliged to keep his bed ; and, to use Mrs Gilmour's words,, 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 387 

" he never had his foot on this earth more." He was now, 
as will be anticipated, in the last stage of his illness ; and 
during it, though he was far from home, and among utter 
strangers, he was neither comfortless nor unconsoled. 

Mrs Gilmour, who had a bed in the same room with him, 
attended him day and night, and gave him food, drinks, and 
cordials, as he wanted them ; and his landlady, Mrs Hyde, 
feelingly sympathized with him, doing every thing in her 
power to make him comfortable. 

When he became so weak as to be confined to bed, he 
made some enquiries at Mrs Hyde respecting the gentlemen 
of the medical profession in Southampton, and called in the 
attendance of Mr Stewart, a young Irish surgeon from that 
town ; and, besides being daily attended by this gentleman, 
he was visited once or twice by Mr Parker, his partner in 
practice ; twice by Dr Denholm, one of the most experienced 
physicians there ; and once by a young Scotch surgeon, whose 
name Mrs Gilmour did not ascertain, or has forgotten. 

In a few days after, the Rev. Dr Wilson, rector of the 
parish in which his lodgings were situated, having heard of 
him through Mr Stewart, his medical attendant, who had 
learned from Mrs Gilmour that he was the author of " The 
Course of Time," paid him a visit, and brought him some 
grapes along with other delicate fruits. 

In a day or two after that, he received a visit from a gen- 
tleman, who, though a stranger, Mrs Gilmour says, " had a 
brother's kindness for him," and who, afterwards, called on 
him frequently ; and by his many kind attentions, his Chris- 
tian conversation, and his prayers, greatly contributed to his 
comfort and consolation. This was Owen Lloyd, Esq., 
Merrion Square, Dublin, who, being then at Southanrtan 



388 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

with his wife for the benefit of her health, had heard of him 
by Mr Stewart, who was attending Mrs Lloyd. Of this gen- 
tleman Robert said to his sister, " He is one of our own 
school ; " and Mrs Gilmour says, she " did not see Robert so 
much at home and so easy and happy with any body after 
leaving Scotland as with him." 

But amid all the attentions that were paid to him, and all 
the comforts with which he was surrounded, he became daily 
weaker and weaker. For three or four days after being 
confined to bed, he was very uneasy and restless. He then 
became easier, lay quiet, and for a day or two seemed bet- 
ter ; but still, in reality, was growing worse. 

On Monday, the 10th of September, by which time he had 
become very weak, Mr Stewart, on retiring from paying him 
a visit, took Mrs Gilmour quietly out of the room, and told 
her that he had little hope of his recovery, evidently meaning, 
from the manner in which he spoke, that he had no hope of 
it whatever. When she returned, Robert having noticed 
Mr Stewart take her out, and perceiving a change in her 
countenance when she returned, he asked her what the 
doctor had said to her: she tried to put him off, but he 
insisted on her telling him ; and she then told him all. He 
heard it without any apparent emotion, and without saying 
any thing ; but in a little, still thinking from what Dr 
Belfrage and his medical friends in Edinburgh had said to 
him, that, under proper treatment, he would recover, he pro- 
posed to send to London for Dr Gordon, who had been recom- 
mended by Dr Abercrombie, and wanted his sister to write 
for him immediately. But Mrs Gilmour, thinking it her 
duty to undeceive him with respect to this hope, and thus 
dissuade him from his purpose, acknowledged to him what 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 389 

Dr B elf rage said to her, when she tried, at Slateford, to have 
him dissuaded from going further. On this, after looking at 
her steadily for a little in deep reflection, he laid himself in 
an easy position in bed, expressed a wish to see me, and 
began to speak calmly and familiarly of death. From that 
time, during the remaining days of his life, he thought him- 
self dying, and spoke no more of medical aid. 

Hitherto, from his going to Southampton, he had made 
Mrs Gilmour defer writing to his father from day to day, 
in the hope of being able to tell him that he was getting 
better ; but he now wished her to write immediately to let 
him know how he was ; and of her letter of next day, the 
following parts seem proper for insertion here : — 

"Southampton, Sept. II, 1827. 
" My Dear Father — On the morning of the 31st of last 
month, instead of sailing for Italy, we set off for Southamp- 
ton, about seventy-six miles from London, which journey we 
accomplished in a day and a half. But Robert was so much 
fatigued with the jolting of the carriage that he has been 
fevered ever since, and has been confined to bed for five or 
six days past. A surgeon from Southampton has attended 
him daily during that time ; and yesterday he told me he 
had little hope of my brother's getting better. Still, how- 
ever, there is hope, for the fever is abated in some measure. 
Yesterday and to-day he seems to have more ease. He now 
speaks often of death, and rather regrets that he was sent so 
far from his friends. But he is resigned to the will of Pro- 
vidence ; and we have very comfortable lodgings, and a 
remarkably kind landlady, who has had a great deal of 
trouble herself, so that she sympathizes with Robert very 



390 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

much. She is also well acquainted with cooking any nice 
dish that he can fancy. 

" He has a great desire to see our brother David here ; 
and if you could get notice to him soon, he could come by 
the mail straight through to London, and from thence in a 
few hours to Southampton. 

" Robert sleeps a great deal to-day, so that I have leisure 
to write. I am sitting at his bed-foot, in a neat clean room, 
in a little cottage, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about 
one mile from Southampton. Our landlord is an old man 
and remarkably quiet, and his whole family consists of his 
wife and a maid-servant, and he keeps three cows. I men- 
tion this because Robert has been so fond of milk since 
coming here, and he has got it every way he wished. He 
seems better to-day, and feels some ' rest to his bones/ 
as he expresses it. I am quite well myself, and feel more 
comfortable now since Robert seems sensible of his frail 
state, and is so resigned, and I hope [is so well] prepared 
for whatever may be the consequence. I have not needed to 
sit a whole night with him yet, but have to rise three or 
four times in the night — my bed is in the same room. 

" Tell my husband I expect to be home soon. I am, 
yours, &c. " Jean Pollok." 

On the same sheet 'Robert himself wrote the few follow- 
ing lines, — and they are the last he wrote : — 

« Dear Father — It is with difficulty that I can repeat what 
my sister has written above, that I wish David to come off 
immediately. Whatever my gracious and merciful God and 
Saviour has in design with me at this time, David's pre- 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 391 

sence will be equally useful. Let nothing delay his immediate 
coming. Wherever he is, the Presbytery will at once set 
him at liberty in a case of this kind. My sister is often 
much distressed; but we pray for one another, and take 
comfort in the gracious promises of God. I hope I am 
prepared for the issue of this trouble, whether life or death. 
Pray for me. 

" R. Pollok." 

Such were the circumstances and the state in which 
Robert was approaching his end — far from home, lying easy 
and peaceful, with daily medical attendance, and with his 
sister watching over him day and night, in a retired cottage, 
with a quiet agreeable landlord, and an experienced, attentive 
landlady; aware that he was dying, talking often of death, 
and " resigned to the will of Providence," praying at times 
with his sister, and taking " comfort '' with her " in the 
gracious providence of God," hoping that he was "prepared for 
the issue of his trouble, whether that was to be life or death." 

From the date of this letter he continued in a resigned, 
submissive, peaceful, and comfortable state of mind; and 
as he became gradually weaker and weaker in body, he be- 
came more and more calm, collected, and composed in 
mind. " He grew," to use his sister's words, " liker his 
old way — liker what he used to be : " by rest and quietness 
the fever abated, and the mental and bodily excitement sub- 
sided. He was occasionally distressed with alternate heats 
and colds, but he got soothing medicines and cordials, and, 
on the whole, he did not suffer much. 

He was now visited once, and sometimes twice, a-day by 
Mr Lloyd, who brought him all sorts of cordials which he 



392 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

thought would promote his comfort, stood and administered 
them with his own hand, and " cheered him with his Chris- 
tian conversation." He spoke frequently, but only at most 
a short sentence or two at a time ; and he continued to speak 
calmly and familiarly of death and of dying. He spoke once, 
and only once, of being unwilling or afraid to die ; and his 
sister said to him, " I thought you would not be afraid to 
die ; our brother James, I remember, was not afraid of dying." 
" Yes," he replied, " but I have great sins." " I thought," 
said his sister, " you would not have great sins." " Ay," he 
said, (i I have great sins; but, no doubt," he added after a 
short pause, " I have a great Saviour." He spoke of all his 
relations and friends, but especially of his father, and said he 
wished them all to be religious. 

He made his sister keep the Bible by his bed-side, and 
read passages in it, now and then, many of which he pointed 
out to her, especially in the Psalms and in the Gospel accor- 
ding to John, which were always his favourite portions of 
Scripture — the former for spiritual sublimity, and the latter 
for spiritual simplicity. He bade her read from no other 
book but the Bible, and spoke to her of no other book. 

He prayed often himself, and once bade his sister pray. 
Once also having requested Mr Lloyd to do so, he said he 
was but a layman, and not used to pray before clergymen ; 
but would pray as he could. Mr Lloyd then prayed, and 
Robert said he was greatly refreshed with his prayer. 

The only thing about which he seemed to have any un- 
easiness or anxiety, was to see me. But though his wish, 
that I should " come off immediately" on receipt of his sister's 
letter to his father of the 11th of September, was complied 
with, his "great desire to see" me was not permitted to be 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 393 

gratified. When his sister saw this desire very strong, she 
said to him, if he wanted any thing very particular with 
me, if he would mention what it was, she would tell me, and 
it would be attended to the same as if he had seen me. But 
he only answered, " I would like to see David himself." 

He made his sister write once for him to Dr Belfrage, 
and once or twice to Mr Pirie, letting them know how he 
was. He was so weak, however, that he could not be at the 
trouble of dictating the letters to her ; but made her read 
them to him when they were written. 

He made two, and only two, dying bequests : he left his 
watch to his nephew, John Pollok ; and to me a favourite 
penknife. 

On the morning of Monday the 17th of September, he 
grew rapidly worse. During the day he was a little un- 
easy and restless, and spoke a few words now and then; 
but towards evening he seemed free from all pain, lay quiet, 
and had a great desire to fall asleep. He was so sensitive 
and so acute in hearing, that the least motion or sound dis- 
turbed him ; and telling his sister that he would like to have 
a sleep, bade her keep herself very quiet, that he might not 
be disturbed. She did so ; but still he could not fall asleep ; 
for, however quiet she was, he said he heard her breathe* 
She went out, as he wanted her ; but she was afraid to leave 
him alone, lest, as she expresses it, " he might go away" when 
she was not with him ; and she returned, and lay down at 
the foot of his bed to be out of his sisrht. But he soon heard 
her breathing, and looked up, and bade her go out again. 
She did so once more ; but, returning in a short time, 
sat down quietly beside him unperceived ; and he seemed 
then to be asleep. Mr Lloyd came at seven o'clock in the 



394 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

evening, and stayed with him till nine ; when he helped his 
sister to adjust the bed according to his pleasure, and took his 
leave with little or no hope of seeing him again in life. During 
most of the time that Mr Lloyd stayed, and for nearly an hour 
after his departure, Robert lay quiet, and apparently asleep. 
About ten o'clock at night, after his sister had read some 
passages of the Bible to him, he sat up in bed, and prayed 
for a considerable time ; " and," to use his sister's words, " he 
put up an exceedingly sensible prayer, remembering in it a 
number of his friends, but particularly his father, whom he 
had frequently spoken of with great veneration." While he 
was praying, Mrs Hyde, knowing him to be so engaged, 
and being desirous to hear him, came into the room, and 
knelt down by his bedside. He noticed her, but was not 
disturbed, and prayed for her and her husband; and, when he 
had done, she expressed herself as much pleased that he had 
prayed for them, and very thankful that she had come in to 
hear him. This was the last time that he prayed aloud. 
He then lay down, and seemed to fall asleep. In a little, 
Mr Stewart and Dr Denholm called to see him ; but they 
could do no more for him. Dr Denholm merely adjusted his 
pillow, and placed his head on it in an easy position ; " and 
after that," says his sister, " his pillow was never altered." 
On their retiring, Mrs Gilmour asked them if they thought 
he would " put over the night," and Dr Denholm said to her, 
mildly and feelingly, " You may be prepared for the worst." 
About eleven o'clock at night he was very quiet ; and 
his sister, being much fatigued, lay down in bed to rest 
herself for a little. He continued in this state till twelve 
o'clock, and then his sister says, " he gave a strange moan." 
She instantly rose, and went to his bedside, and looked on 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 395 

Kim. She saw lie was still in life, but near his end ; and she 
said to him, " You are going to leave us now, Robert." At 
first he gave her no answer; but, on her moistening his 
lips, he said, " Ay;" and this was the last word that he 
spoke. His sister then called Mrs Hyde, who had express- 
ed a wish to be brought in to see him die ; and on her 
coming, she and his sister stood looking on him together, and 
he lay quiet again for nearly half an hour. About half- 
past twelve o'clock, he made some slight motion as if he had 
been going to raise himself in bed, and opened his eyes, 
which looked remarkably bright and peaceful. He then closed 
them, and lay down again as if he had been going to sleep ; 
remaining at ease, in the same position, till one o'clock in the 
morning, when he died in peace, on Tuesday the 18th of 
September 1827, in the twenty-ninth year of his age. 

Not many hours after he died, Mr Lloyd returned to Mr 
Hyde's to consult with Mrs Gilmour respecting his funeral ; 
and at first it was her intention to take home his remains ; 
but Mr Parker, to whom she happened to mention the sub- 
ject, having represented it to her as impracticable, she con- 
cluded that he must be buried in that neighbourhood, yet 
wished the interment put off till my arrival, which she ex- 
pected daily. Mr Lloyd then wrote for her to Mr Pirie, in- 
forming him of Robert's death ; went and selected a proper 
place for his grave ; and gave the necessary instructions re-< 
specting the funeral. 

On the day after Robert died, a note addressed to him from 
Mr Pirie arrived at Mr Hyde's, inclosing the following copy 
of a letter to that gentleman from the Rev. John Brown, con- 
taining an interesting extract respecting his claim as an 



396 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

author on the Literary Fund, to which application had been 
made in his favour, through the intervention of Sir John 
Sinclair : — 

" John Pirie, Esq., Cornhill, London. 

"Edinburgh, 15th September 1828. 
" My Dear Sir — I feel myself laid under great obligations to 
you for your uncommon attention to my sick friend Pollok. 
In reference to your remark respecting the difficulty of secu- 
ring the assistance of the Literary Fund, I am glad to say 
there seems every prospect of obtaining that object. I send 
you an extract of a letter lately received by Sir John Sinclair, 
from Sir Benjamin Hobhouse. < Mr Pollok's book, entitled 
" The Course of Time/' does him great credit, and gives 
him claims as an author upon the Literary Fund. I have 
sent it with a recommendation to Mr Snow, our secretary, at 
No. 4, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London ; but, unfortunately, there 
is no regular meeting of the Committee of Management 
until the second Wednesday in November, and it is difficult 
at this season of the year to get a quorum for a special meet- 
ing ; I therefore know not what to do.' Sir John, in a note 
to me, says, ' By applying to Mr Snow, it will be ascertained 
whether any immediate supply can be obtained.' But Sir John 
thinks sooner or later it may be depended on. May I request 
you to look after this business ? I know it is a very unreasonable 
thing to lay any additional burden on one whose time and 
attention are so thoroughly occupied as yours ; but I know also, 
you are not in the habit of thinking either time or attention 
wasted which is devoted to the cause of benevolence. 

" As Mrs Pirie is likely to be returned by this time, I beg 
to have my kind and respectful remembrances presented to 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 397 

her. — I am, my dear Sir, with much esteem and respect, 
yours, &c. 

" John Brown." 

On receipt of Mr Lloyd's letter, Mr Pirie wrote Mrs Gil- 
mour as follows : — 

"London, Sept. 19, 1827. 
" Dear Madam — I have just received the melancholy intelli- 
gence of your brother's departure, I doubt not, to a better 
world. 

" To-morrow morning I will leave town, and be with you 
about six o'clock. In the mean time, Mr Lloyd will, I am 
sure, be kind enough to give such instructions as may be 
necessary respecting the funeral, which had better take place 
on Friday or Saturday, in a plain and simple manner. 

" I have written to the Rev. Mr Brown, begging him to 
acquaint your friends with the distressing event, as I am not 
in possession of their addresses. 

" It is completely out of my power to get away this even- 
ing, otherwise I would readily set off then — With the deep- 
est sympathy, I am, dear Madam, yours truly, 

« John Pirie." 

" P.S — The kindness evinced by Mr Adkins,* leads me to 
observe that you had better submit to Mr Lloyd the propriety 
of inviting him to the funeral." 

Next day, Thursday, the 20th of September, Mr Pirie 
came from London to attend the funeral; and, on his arrival, 

* A Dissenting minister in Southampton, to whom Mr Pirie had written 
to call on Robert, at Mr Hyde's, and who, with his wife, called for him 
there, a few hours after he died. 



398 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 

it was arranged that it should take place on the day follow- 
ing. It was attended by only a few individuals, as none 
but those who had called to see him at Mr Hyde's were 
invited. Mrs Gilmour and Mr Pirie were, what is called 
m England, chief mourners. He was buried in the church- 
yard of Millbrook, near the sea-shore, one mile from De- 
vonshire Place, Shirley Common, where he died, and two 
miles from Southampton. His burial was according to the 
form of the Church of England ; and the Rev. Mr Moles- 
worth read the burial-service, which, as the church was then 
under repairs, was read in the churchyard by the side of his 
grave.* 

On the very day that Robert's funeral took place, the Rev. 
John Brown wrote the following excellent letter to his 
father, informing him of his death : — 

" Edinburgh, 19, Rose Street, 21st Sept. 1827. 
" My Dear Sir — It is with deep sympathy that I perform 
the painful duty which has devolved on me, the communi- 
cating to you the mournful intelligence— for which, however, 
Mrs Gilmour's last letter must have prepared you — of the 

f It seems proper to subjoin a few words here respecting his wish to see 
me at Southampton : — 

When our father received Mrs Gilmour's letter of the 11th of September, 
I was at Bathgate, eighteen miles west from Edinburgh. As soon as he 
had read it, he sent it off to me by post. I received it on the 19th of the 
month, eight days after it was written, when it happened that Mr David 
Marr and I were sitting together, waiting in great anxiety to hear from 
Robert. In half an hour after receiving it I was on the road to Edinburgh, 
to set out thence by the first conveyance to Southampton. Next morning, 
September 20, at six o'clock, I left Edinburgh for London, where 1 arrived 
on the 22d, about six o'clock in the evening. Next day I hastened on to 
Southampton, and reached Mr Hyde's, Shirley Common, at five o'clock 
in the afternoon, three days and a half after setting out. I knocked 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 399 

death of your highly-gifted son. By a letter from Mr Pirie 
of London, inclosing a copy of a letter from the Rev. Mr 
Adkins of Southampton, which I have just received, I find 
that he peacefully breathed his last on Monday, 17th cur- 
rent.* ' It is a subject of gratulation,' says Mr Adkins, 
i that he was by no means destitute of Christian friendship, 
and that his mind seemed truly composed.' Mr Pirie, whose 
kindness has been remarkable, was to leave London yester- 
day to take charge of the funeral. Mr David Pollok, who 
left this yesterday for London, will, I am afraid, be too late 
to do the last office to his brother ; but it will materially add 
to Mrs Gilmour's comfort, in her present trying circum- 
stances, to have him as her companion in her journey home. 
I trust, my dear sir, * He who comforts them that are cast 
down ' will, by his good spirit shining on his ' exceeding 
great and precious promises,' support your mind under this 
severe bereavement. The world and the Church have sus- 
tained a loss, not easily calculated, in what we are apt to 
think the untimely death of such an individual. But ' It is 
the Lord ;' and the language of the event is, ' Be still, and 
know that I am God.' From what your son has told me of 

at the door, both eager and afraid to knock ; and Mrs Hyde herself 
opened it. I asked her if Mr Pollok and his sister were there ? and the 
moment I asked her, I thought by her appearance that, as I feared all 
along, I was too late. " They were here," she said with deep feeling, taking 
me, as she told me afterwards, to be their brother whom they sent for ; " but 
they are not here now : they are both gone. Mr Pollok is no more, and 
his sister has gone to London." What a void dreary desolateness these 
words produced ! I felt as if alone in the world ! With what unutterable 
feelings did I see his grave, and the room in which he died ! 

* Mr Adkins's letter had been incorrect with regard to the date of his 
death ; but, as it took place at one o'clock in the morning of Tuesday the 
18th of the month, it is easy to account for the slight mistake. 



400 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

you, I have every reason to consider you as * an old disciple ;' 
and it is a thought which to your mind must be full of com- 
fort, that the separation between you and your much and 
deservedly loved son cannot be very long ; and that the event 
which will restore you to him, will also bring you into the 
immediate presence of your Saviour and your God. — I am, 
my dear sir, yours faithfully, 

" John Brown." 

As soon as the intelligence of his death reached Glasgow, 
which it did before it was known that his funeral had taken 
place in England, a proposal was originated among the stu- 
dents of the United Secession Divinity Hall, in concert with 
Robert Hood, Esq., formerly mentioned, to bring his remains 
down to Scotland for interment, as the following letter, writ- 
ten to his father on the occasion by the late celebrated 
Henry Bell, Esq., Helensburgh, who was related to us by 
marriage, will show : — 

« Sir — I am sorry at the irreparable loss that you and the 
family have met with in the death of the Rev. Robert Poll ok, 
My earnest prayer is, that it may be sanctified to you and all 
friends. 

" It is the request of a great number of his [late] fellow- 
students to have his corpse brought down to Scotland, and 
interred in the new burying-ground underneath Dr Mitchell's 
church, where a monument is to be erected upon his grave ; 
but before taking this step, it is necessary to have your con- 
sent, which I hope you will give. Please send your son 
down to-morrow to Mr Robert Hood's, Candleriggs, as he 
and a number of friends wish to send off two students by 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 



401 



the mail-coach to-morrow night, in purpose to bring down 
his corpse by a steam- vessel. I hope you will comply with 
the request. — I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, 

" Henry Bell. 
« Glasgow, 25th Sept. 1827." 

Immediately after this letter was written, intelligence that 
he was buried in England reached Glasgow ; and, on that 
account, the students and Mr Hood and his friends gave up 
their patriotic design of bringing his remains to Scotland. 

A few days afterwards his father received, from the secre- 
tary of the Students' Society, the following letter of sympathy 
and condolence : — 

" Glasgow, September 28th, 1827. 
" My Dear Sir — I have been enjoined by the students of 
divinity in the Secession Hall, to communicate to you the 
following resolution, to which they this day unanimously 
agreed : — 

" ' That, from the high admiration in which we hold " The 
Course of Time," by the late Robert Pollok, and from the 
respect which we cherish towards his memory, we hereby 
express our sincere sympathy and condolence with his rela- 
tions and friends in the mournful bereavement which they 
have sustained by his lamented death, and our hope that his 
relations and acquaintances will agree to transmit, without 
delay, to some well-qualified person, such materials for a 
memoir of him as they possess, which memoir, prefixed to a 
second edition of his poem, will, in conjunction with its own 
excellency, be, in their opinion, the best means of perpetu- 
ating his well-earned fame.' 

" My dear Sir, joining as I heartily do, in the feelings 
expressed in the above resolution, as well as cherishing 

2l 



402 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

toward the deceased the recollection of personal friendship, 
I hope that the suggestion made in the end of the resolution 
will meet with your highest approbation. 

" Praying that the consolation of Almighty God may be 
with you in your affliction, and that you may find in your 
experience, that He that woundeth is also He that healeth — 
I am, sir, your most sincere well-wisher and servant, 

" Peter Davidson.* 
" Secretary of Students' Society." 

Soon after this, a proposal was made in Glasgow, by Mr 
David Robertson, bookseller, and his partner in business, the 
late Mr Thomas Atkinson, in concurrence with the late Mr 
James Hood, son of Robert Hood, Esq., and several other 
gentlemen, for disinterring his remains and bringing them 
down to Scotland. To this proposal his father had given 
his assent, and the concurrence of Dr Belfrage and Dr 
Brown had been requested ; but, owing to some unexpected 
difficulties, it was never carried into execution. 

A few months after his death, arrangements were made 
for erecting a monument over his grave, the expenses of 
which were to be defrayed out of the funds which had been 
raised for enabling him to visit Italy for the restoration of 
his health. In furtherance of this plan, the treasurers, Dr 
Belfrage and Dr Brown, addressed a circular to the contri- 
butors to these funds, in February 1828, showing, that after 
defraying certain expenses, £55 remained in their hands ; 
and stating that it had been suggested that the remainder 
should be devoted to the raising of a monument to his 
memory ; that the suggestion had been readily acquiesced 

* Now minister of the United Secession Congregation, Stockbridge, 
Edinburgh. 



THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 403 

in by a number of the contributors ; and that, should it not 
meet the approbation of any of them, their proportion of the 
funds in the hands of the treasurers would be returned, on 
their receiving intimation to that effect. As was to be ex- 
pected, all the contributors, on receiving the circular, readily 
acquiesced ; and a monument was erected accordingly. It 
is an obelisk of Peterhead granite ; and bears, with the dates 
of his birth and death, the following inscription, written by 
the Rev. Dr John Brown, Edinburgh : — 

THE GRAVE OF 

ROBERT POLLOK, A.M. 

AUTHOR OF " THE COURSE OF TIME :" 

HIS IMMORTAL POEM 

IS HIS 

MONUMENT. 

Erected by Admirers of His Genius. 

Such was the life of Robert Pollok, short, active, and 
memorable ; begun in obscurity, and closed in renown. 
His burial in England has been regarded by many in Scot- 
land as a subject of national regret. " Why," it is asked, 
" should the author of * The Course of Time,' who was born 
and bred in Scotland, and who lived and wrote, and almost 
died there, have been buried on another shore ? and why 
are his remains suffered to lie there ? " 

This is characteristic, national, patriotic ; and no doubt 
it would be inexpressibly interesting to have his grave in his 
native country : yet there are two things which almost 
reconcile us to his lying where he is laid — his finishing his 



404 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 

earthly course there, and the delightfulness of the place where 
his ashes repose — the purity and softness of its air, the open- 
ness and freeness of the situation — its distance from any 
town, and its proximity to the sea. Although we cannot hut 
wish that he lay among his native mountains, we cannot help 
feeling how appropriate is the spot where he rests, for the 
grave of the author of " The Course of Time !" 

To his Life it is thought proper, as it may be interesting, 
to subjoin some account of his manuscripts in my possession ; 
which, with the exception of a few letters, are nearly the 
whole of them. Exclusive of the copies of one paper, four 
letters, and eight short poems, there are two hundred and 
forty altogether — sixty of essays, sixty of letters, sixty-four 
of poetry, fifteen of sermons, twenty-one of note-books, and 
twenty of miscellaneous papers. These amount to upwards 
of two thousand and four hundred pages, of which about 
fifteen hundred are quarto ; the rest are octavo. They are 
generally well written, and but a few of them are carelessly 
scrolled, and somewhat difficult to be read. Throughout, 
there are few omissions of words or letters, and few altera- 
tions or corrections. In variety and appearance they may be 
said to be a material or visible representation of the writer's 
variety of mind. 

Such are his manuscripts, left behind him in my possession ; 
and how affecting is it to look at them ! what feelings do 
they arouse ! what unutterable things do they not recall ! to 
what anticipations do they give rise ! And who can say — 
had it pleased Providence to prolong the author's life — to 
what even sublimer heights of genius his maturer energies 
might not have aspired ! 

THE ENI> OF THE EIFE. 



POEMS. 



POEMS. 



[The following juvenile verses are offered to the public, not 
from any idea of their being finished or perfect, but 
from the belief that the admirers of the author's great 
work, " The Course of Time," may wish to possess 
specimens of his earlier compositions.] 



ODE TO MOORHOUSE. 

Far from the giddy cheerless crowd, 

That press the street, thoughtless and loud, 

In ancient majesty arrayed, 

Timeworn Moorhouse, thou stand'st displayed. 

Thy walls irregular could tell 

At Bannockburn what numbers fell ; 

How Bruce, with strong resistless hand, 

From proud oppression saved his land. 



408 POEMS. 

When popes and kings in hellish rage, 

By persecution thinned the age, 

Thy walls a faithful shelter proved 

To those that God and virtue loved. 

Oft in the silent midnight hour — 

When listening Heaven's Almighty Power, 

With ear inclined, delighted, hears 

The good man's prayer, and wipes his tears — 

Within thy walls assembled saints 

Praised Him who wearies not nor faints ; 

Praised Him who sheathed the bloody sword, 

And, undisturbed, his name adored, 

And angels joined the ascending song, 

Wafting it to the eternal throng. 

The lofty trees that by thee grow, 
A supplicating look bestow 
On me, a stripling, easy laid 
Within their hospitable shade ; 
And, sighing, say, " The kindly hand 
That gave us birth in this blest land, 
Centuries ago lies in the dust ; 
O do not thou betray thy trust ! 
Us gently prune with feeling hand, 
Nor to destroy us give command. 
Thy fathers, now above the sky, 
Watched o'er us with paternal eye ; 
O to our age some reverence yield ! 
Nor envy us this little field." * 

* These trees are alluded to in a passage in the fifth book of" The Course 
of Time," where the Author reverts to the scenery of his native place. 



POEMS. 409 

Around, untainted zephyrs blow, 
And purling rills unfailing flow, 
And Earn's pure stream with gentle waves, 
Unceasingly thy border laves. 
The smiling herds that graze thy plain 
Of drink or pasture ne'er complain ; 
Their wintry food thy meadows yield, 
Secured ere Boreas beats the field; 
Thy joyful, waving, yellow plains, 
Ne'er baulk the labour of the swains. 

O happy dome ! placed far remote 
From city broils and treason's plot ; 
The city smoke ne'er reach'd thy plain, 
Which suffocates the motley train ; 
Far from the crimes that rage unnamed, 
From which the day retires ashamed ; 
Far from the breezes fraught with death, 
Far from contagion's mortal breath ; 
Happy the swains who in thee live, 
Who read their Bibles and believe, 
Who worship God with heart and mind, 
And to his will are aye resigned ! 



A HYMN. 



When Satan, man's infernal foe, 
By pride and hate impelled, 

Had plunged our race in guilt and woe, 
And forth from bliss expelled; 

2 m 



410 POEMS. 

The mighty Lord of love and grace, 
Who sits enthroned od high, 

In mercy viewed the ruined race, 
And sent his Son to die. 

He sent his Son from his right hand 
To this lost world of woes, 

By death to conquer and command 
All our destroying foes ; 

To conquer sin, and death, and hell, 
And triumph o'er the grave ; 

The great Destroyer to expel, 
And all his people save. 

O wondrous love ! O boundless grace I 
For God's own Son most high, 

Our sinful nature to embrace, 
To suffer and to die ! 



DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL AND 
JONATHAN. 

FROM 2 SAMUEL, CHAPTER I. 19 27. 

Weep, Israel, weep, for Jacob's beauty slain ! 
How are the mighty fallen ! — their might was vain I 
Let haughty Gath the tidings never hear, 
To Askelon's streets the message never bear ; 
Lest Gath's proud daughters boastfully rejoice, 
And heathen maids in triumph lift their voice. 
Gilboa's mountains I favoured once of heaven, 



POEMS. 411 

To you no more refreshing dews be given ! 

No more let rain your withering face renew, 

Nor fields of offerings ever smoke on you ! 

For you the mighty 's shield, disgraced, retain, 

The shield of Saul, anointed king in vain. 

In battle, strong was Saul's heaven-gifted son ; 

Where fought the king, the mighty were undone. 

To point the feathered death, the son knew well — 

The mighty felt it, and the mighty fell. 

Thy sword, O King ! twice never struck the foe ; 

Thy hand once lifted, and he sunk below. 

With you, in life, true love and pleasure dwelt, 

The stroke of death you, undivided, felt. 

Now low you lie in death's cold iron hold, 

Once swift as eagles, as the lion bold. 

Weep, Israel's daughters ! let no tear remain, 

Weep your fallen monarch, and my brother slain ! 

Weep over Saul whose bounty spared no cost, 

In scarlet clothed you, and in gold, your boast ! 

How have the strong their weapons ceased to wield — ■ 

How fallen the great in Gilboa's half-fought field ? 

O Jonathan ! my brother and my friend, 

Did there thy life, my joy, for ever end ? 

My soul is grieved ! my brother, art thou fled ? 

My dearest brother, numbered with the dead ! 

Thou loved'st me more than women wont to love ; 

Thine was the ardour angels feel above. 

Weep ! Israel, weep ! your loss with mine bewail ! 

War's weapons perish, and the mighty fail. 



412 POEMS. 

CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. 

FROM JOHN, CHAPTER XX. 1 16. 

On that blest morning when the Son of God ? 
Released from death, forsook his dark abode ; 
Ere yet the sun had sent his farthest light 
To tell his coming, and alarm the night ; 
Good Magdalene, from demons once restored, 
With mournful steps, drew near her buried Lord. 
No stone was there ! removed by Heaven's behest, 
The grave no longer now her Lord possest ! 
Astonished Mary, filled with pious cares, 
These doubtful tidings to her brethren bears : 
" Some cruel hand has taken the Lord away ! 
Where is he laid? where is his honoured clay ?" 
With anxious speed, two brethren quickly ran 
To see the truth— the sepulchre to scan. 
They entered in ; when, lo ! the linen white, 
Stripped from their Lord, met their enquiring sight ; 
They gazed awhile, then mournful took their way, 
Nor knew their Lord lived in eternal day. 
But Mary, speechless and o'ercome with grief, 
Fast by the tomb in weeping sought relief ; 
And as she wept, and still the grave surveyed, 
Behold ! in pure celestial white arrayed, 
Two angels bright from heaven commissioned came 
To soothe her mind, her Lord's release proclaim. 
" Why weep'st thou, woman ? " said the sent of heaven? 
" For what loved object are these tears now given ? 
Whom thou dost seek the grave could not retain ; 
Hell and the grave to hold him strove in vain." 



POEMS. 413 

° My tears are for the dead, the injured dead ! 

Where is my Lord ? where is his lowly bed ? " 

Thus said, she turned her round, and there was shown 

Her risen Lord, but yet to her unknown. 

" Why weep'st thou, woman ? " said her gracious Lord, 

" Whom dost thou seek ? whom would'st thou have 

restored?" 
She said, " If thou hast borne him hence, ah ! where, 
Where shall I find him ? I will seek him there." 
" My daughter, Mary ! " said her Lord Divine. 
She, turning, said, " My Master ! I am thine." 

As Mary sought her loving Lord to find, 
So seeks each soul to heavenly grace inclined ; 
As Jesus' word to cheer her heart was given, 
So will he speak to every child of heaven. 



THE DISTRESSED CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 
[the author's second piece in blank verse.] 

My soul is ill at ease, my thoughts disorder, 
Tortured with pain, convulsed with doubt and passion. 
As, when against a hapless bark adrift 
Billows tremendous dash, and tempest rolls 
The fury of conflicting elements, 
Baffled in every plan, and stupified, 
The seaman's hardy soul sinks careless down, 
And heedless waits the yawning desolation ; 
So, 'mid the evils which beset my soul, 
She flounces on, unheedful of her fate. 
And must 1 let her thus be tossed and scourged 



414 POEMS. 

By the dread billows of this nether world ? 

Is it like being immortal to be foiled, 

To be undone, by things ephemeral ? 

It must not be. What ! is the contest vain ? 

A trifle the reward of victory ? 

No, no, my soul ! life and eternal joy, 

A crown of glory, an unfading crown, 

Imparted from the grandeur infinite 

Of glory uncreated, will be thine, 

If in the path of duty thou abide. 

That God, who into being spoke the world, 

And still, with arm omnipotent, maintains 

The revolution vast of varied things, 

Hath sworn by his eternal Godhead high, 

That he who perseveres in righteousness, 

Who fights the fight of faith, and turns not back, 

Shall immortality and honour gain. 

Unseen, unheard, unthought-of happiness ! 

Bliss which Jehovah's goodness has prepared ! 

Rise, rise, my soul ; see yonder blest abode ; 

Behold the beatific vision bright, 

And say how ill it fits thee e'er to fret, 

Or be dismayed, at time's most horrid frown. 

Put on the Christian armour, bravely fight 

The hosts of earth and hell ; fear not their strength ; 

Power, wisdom infinite, are on thy side. 

The mighty arm that clave Arabia's gulf, 

Whelmed Egypt's guilty host infuriate, 

Uplifted, fights for thee. Away, away, 

Ye bugbears that surround my soul ; earth, death, 

And hell, are foiled by Him in whom resides 



POEMS. 415 



All strength ; eternal victory is thine, 
Immortal life, and everlasting bliss ! 



A TALE, 

ILLUSTRATING THE UNITY OF JUSTICE AND BENEVOLENCE. 

[Written as a voluntary essay for the Moral Philosophy Class, during 
the author's fourth session at college.] 

In ancient days when great Augustus reigned, 
And o'er the world his peaceful sway maintained ; 
Beneath fair Hybla's brow, in Noto's vale, 
Where thymy fragrance breathes on every gale ; 
Where fairest flowers their sweetest juice disclose, 
And every streamlet rich with honey flows ; 
Unknown to tumult, hurry, care, or strife, 
The wealthy Dargol led an easy life. 
No wife, no child, had ever called him dear ; 
He felt no raptures, and he knew no fear. 
Luxurious dainties pressed his sumptuous board, 
And ready servants wait their lonely lord. 
Deep hoarded stores his coffers safely kept ; 
In vain, to ope them, starving orphans wept. 
Yet he was just, as justice he defined ; 
He brake no law great Caesar had enjoined. 

With all his dainties, all his hoarded wealth, 
Man vainly hopes to bribe the stay of health. 
The hour drew on, when, struggling with his breath, 
Old Dargol felt the fast approach of death. 



416 POEMS. 

Then high the air his ardent prayer bore, 

A voice adoring, heaven ne'er heard before. 

Convincing death ! in thy appalling hour 

Sceptics believe, and scoffers own thy power. 

" Hear, Jove ! " he prayed, " hear, gracious Jove ! my 

cry: 
I lived in justice — let me happy die ! 
Send forth thy messenger, all-righteous God, 
And guide my soul to some joy-girt abode." 

Almighty thunders volleyed from above, 
And earth, all- quivering, feared the wrath of Jove. 
When, lo ! on Dargol's starry glimmering sight 
The parting heavens gush forth immortal light. 
Two heavenly forms, in silvery white array, 
Descend majestic in the blaze of day ; 
Linked hand in hand the graceful figures came : 
The husband one, and one his lovely dame. 

Severe his looks, and yet severely mild ; 
For on his face his consort ever smiled ; 
Deep penetration issues from his eyes, 
That all imposture, all pretext defies. 
A starry sword his golden baldric stayed, 
All-weighing scales his dexter-hand displayed. 
High on his breast, in living gold made known, 
His awful name, Eternal Justice, shone. 

All-lovely form ! to man how matchless fair ! 
Love, pity, mercy, marked his consort's air ; 
O'er all the earth her clement glances run, 



POEMS. 417 

And scatter blessings like the blessing sun. 

Her air, her attitude, her looks, confess 

Herself unblest, while one her hand might bless. 

On her fair form great Justice ever smiled, 

Restrained her hand, or marked the worthy child. 

Her' graceful arm sustained a fruitful vine: 

" Come, child of sorrow!" blissful letters shine. 

No name she bore, denied to earthly fame ; 

But, who could doubt ? Benevolence was her name. 

The pair approached; earth smiled with their array, 
That blazed on Dargol more than mortal day. 
He viewed the forms — no fear his bosom felt ; 
There, all-sufficient, fancied justice dwelt. 
And thus he said : " Ye blest celestial pair, 
Come ye to lead me from the realms of care ? 
To waft my soul to some joy-girt abode, 
Prepared for virtue by the righteous God ? 
I have deserved; in early virtue schooled, 
Unbending justice all my actions ruled.'' 
" Presumption cease ! " stern Justice now began, 
While heavenly wrath o'er all his visage ran ; 
" How darest thou proudly in our presence stand, 
And ask our guidance to the heavenly land ? 
Foul with injustice, dread our heavenly ire, 
And dread the waves of ever-boiling fire." 

The lovely queen now smiled with pitying grace, 
And awful Justice cleared his frowning face ; 
So the dear child, when frowns its sire array, 
Smiles in his face, and all his wrath's away. 



418 POEMS. 

Undaunted yet, the prideful Dargol gazed, 
While from his eyes revengeful anger blazed, 
And thus replied : " Why namest thou me unjust ? 
Have e'er I stolen, or e'er betrayed my trust ? 
Lives there on earth who can of Dargol say, 
' He used my goods, but did not quickly pay ?' 
Did e'er the sun from yonder west retire 
Before my hand discharged the workman's hire ? 
What court can say I once proposed a cause, 
A cause unjustified by Caesar's laws ?'' 

" Man, self-deceived ! " the awful form replies, 
And on his consort turns his peaceful eyes ; 
" 'Gainst her, old Dargol, thy offence is great, 
And who offends her justifies my hate. 
Know then, unjust, know and repent thy crime, 
While mercy stays thee on the brink of time ; 
Ere yonder globe of heaven-enkindled flame 
Gazed on the earth, or warmed the starry frame ; 
Ere labouring chaos heard the plastic word, 
Or infant worlds smiled homage to their lord ; 
Ere praise create swelled round the eternal throne, 
Or burning seraph's dazzling glory shone, 
With me, united in eternal tie, 
Dwelt fair Benevolence, fairest of the sky ; 
In soul, in heart, in every act the same, 
Though two in form, and separate in name. 
Who frowns on her my awful sword must know, 
Or tears repentant stay the righteous blow. 
Ah ! trembling Dargol, hoary in thy guilt, 
Thy stony heart benevolence never felt. 



POEMS. 419 

The orphan wept, the widowed mother moaned ; 
The maimed, diseased, the hoary helpless, groaned. 
In vain they groan ; the tears unheeded flow ; 
Thy lonely heart ne'er felt a brother's woe ; 
Thy careless hand ne'er dried the orphan's tears, 
Soothed weary age, or stilled the widow's fears. 
The fainting traveller saw thy splendid dome ; 
He came in hope, but found no traveller's home. 
His feeble step stole from thy graceless door, 
With disappointment feebler than before. 
Damp, plagueful night his glimmering soul supprest, 
He breathed his life, a life thou shouldst have blest. 

" A virtuous female sighed a lonely life, 
Designed for thee, a happy smiling wife ; 
But, mailed in self 'gainst every kindred sigh, 
Thou leftst the lovely weeping maid to die. 
Hark ! on the troubled blast, her lonely moan 
Still swells with woe, and bids thy life atone. 

: ' Mark, by yon hut, sad on the smiling plain, 
All-lone in grief, a hoary virtuous swain. 
To thee well known was his unhappy son ; 
His wants well known, his matchless worth begun. 
Ah ! most unjust, how could thy hand forbear 
To lift young genius struggling with despair ! 
Severe he struggled, poor, without a friend, 
To vanquish nature, and attain his end. 
Alas ! from toils unaided, ceaseless, great, 
Disease pale, withering, gathered round his fate. 
His parents saw him wasting down to death ; 



420 POEMS. 

Poor, helpless, saw him yield his youthful breath. 
An only son ! ah ! how severe the blow ! 
In death the mother sought repose from woe. 
The hoary sire, amid the smiling clime, 
Like paly stalks that mourn in summer time, 
Bows dark in grief, and weeps the night and day, 
Obtesting heaven to let his soul away. 

" Ah ! wicked Dargol, heaven thy justice knows ! 
From thy injustice sprang this tide of woes. 
The youth — his worth, his wants to thee were plain — 
'Twas thine to cherish with thy hoarded gain. 
Heaven gave thee much, that much thy hand might 

give 
To succour worth, and needy souls relieve : 
The blasted youth, his parents' woeful fate, 
His country's wrong, prove thy injustice great. 

" Nor this alone ; the slanderer, unreproved, 
Blasted the virtuous, and was more beloved. 
Even thy own tongue spread the defaming cry, 
And worthy men in slander more than die ; 
Thy trembling household ne'er enjoyed thy smile — 
The just reward, when faithful mortals toil. 
O'erlaboured, too, beneath thy cruel reign, 
The trusty brute writhed in untimely pain; 
Thy soul reluctant Caesar's tribute paid ; 
Thy hand compelled — thy heart still disobeyed ; 
And what to law reluctantly is given, 
Is given in vain before the eye of heaven. 
Ah ! in thy breast the awful voice of God 



POEMS. 421 

Loudly condemned each swerve from justice' road. 
This, wicked Dargol, this is all thy sin : 
Unheeded spoke the warning" voice within. 
Dargol ! foul with these wrongs to her — to me, 
Hop'st thou acquittal at my bar to see ? " 

Great Justice ceased : old Dargol speechless fell, 
Convinced of guilt — his anguish who can tell ? 
Before the heavenly pair his sorrows flow ; 
His tears, his groans, confess repentant woe. 
Remorseful throes convulse his ancient frame ; 
His face adheres to earth with conscious shame. 

As when the flames, driven through the wasted 
brake, 
With sudden fury, wake the careless snake, 
Convulsed a moment ere its life expires, 
It writhes, it tosses, in the deathful fires ; 
So writhed old Dargol, struggling in his grief, 
But heaven designed his anguished soul relief. 

Benevolence wept ; immortal Pity sighs, 
" No wretch repentant in my presence dies." 
She raised the wight, composed his troubled soul, 
And thus her words in heavenly sweetness roll : 
" Thy life's prolonged : go, man, unhoard thy store ; 
The wretched comfort, and thy God adore. 
Obey the law graven on thy heart alone — 
The law which tries thee at the eternal throne." 

The blessed accents cease, and high in air, 



422 poems. 

In godlike motion, soar the faithful pair ; 

The starry dwellers hymn them as they fly, 

Till heaven receives them, veiled from mortal eye ; 

Heaven heard their words, " A mortal turned to love," 

And joy superior filled the courts ahove. 



SPRING RETURNED. 

Now gloomy winter hides his head, 
With all his ghastly-looking train, 

And living nature, from her bed, 

Refreshed and vigorous clothes the plain. 

The genial sun with kinder ray, 
Awakes the slumbers of the year, 

And starting beauties, young and gay, 
The gladdening face of nature cheer. 

The infant leaf, nursed on the tree, 
Foretells the glory of the grove ; 

The flowery graces paint the lea, 
And tempt the youthful step to rove. 

The new-born incense, grateful smell, 
Floats on the softly-sighing gale ; 

The river now, with gentler swell, 

Glides murmuring through the peaceful vale. 

In joy elate, the feathered throng 

Confess the cheering voice of spring ; 



poems. 423 

With heaven-taught aim they swell the song", 
And nature listens while they sing. 

The frisking flocks, in guileless play, 
Forget white winter's perilous reign ; 

The herds released, exulting stray, 
And hill and dale unite their strain. 

Man, too, renewed, with joyous eye 

Looks wide on nature's annual birth ; 
Sees plenty in her bosom lie, 

And gives his soul to grateful mirth. 

Hail, vigorous spring ! child of the skies ! 

O'er wide creation swell the lays ! 
On heaven-bound gales the anthem flies, 

And Heaven, delighted, hears the praise ! 



JANE. 



On yon green hill that lifts its head 
Scarcely above the village spire, 
Beneath a hawthorn, careless laid, 
I watched the golden day retire, 
And heard the gentle streamlet rove, 
And gloaming sing to welcome love. 



424 poems. 

II. 

The zephyr woke from downy sleep, 
And from its earth-refreshing wing, 
Shook balmy dews, that nightly weep 
Upon the flowery breast of spring ; 
The skylark sang her vesper hymn, 
And hamlet bell toll'd resting-time. 

III. 

Sweet was the sound to labour's ears ! 
His lifted axe the woodman dropp'd ; 
The ploughman, glad, unyoked his steers, 
His love-plight flower the shepherd cropp'd 
And dogs and men with joyous din, 
Slow to the village gathered in. 

IV. 

The sentinel-sheep watched on the moor, 
And heaven's bright eyes, one after one, 
Looked forth, and on her nightly tour, 
Cinctured with clouds, the moon rode on, 
And over lake, and wood, and height, 
Threw her mild and shadowy light. 

V. 

And now, the music of the rill 

Joined concert with the pibroch's swell, 

That floated far o'er rock and hill, 

Where ever-listening echoes dwell, 

And on the dewy moonlit green 

The -village youths and maids were seen. 



POEMS. 425 

VI. 

From care and daily toil set free, 

In sooth it was a dainty throng ; 

With joke, and mirth, and dance, and glee, 

And guileless love, and artless song ; 

Even crazy age young feats would try, 

And boyhood raised the joyous cry. 

VII. 

Yet one among this merry race, 
Seemed wishful of a place to mourn ; 
The beam that trembled on her face, 
Displayed a cheek with sorrow worn ; 
Her hair, uncombed, hung on the breeze ; 
Her robes betrayed no art to please. 

VIII. 

She heeded not the lover's tale 
That softly sighed to win her ear, 
And oft her downcast eye would fail, 
And shady locks, to hide the tear ; 
And oft her long deep heavy sigh 
Responded to the laugh of joy. 

IX. 

I saw her slowly steal away, 
And leave, unseen, the mirthful throng ; 
And, where a rivulet's waters play, 
Sadly she strayed and sighed along ; 
And still she plucked the flowery band, 
And held them in her snowy hand. 

2 N 



426 poems. 

X. 

Whatever flowerets Nature wild 

Nurses unbid — the daisy fair, 

The violet meek, the primrose mild, 

And thyme that scents the desert air, 

She pulled ; and where the churchyard gray 

Looks on the moon, she held her way. 

XI. 

Silent and sad the place of graves 
She sought : pale slept the starry light 
On the long grass, that kindly waves 
O'er humble tombs, and sighs to night ; 
And, from the old religious yews, 
Dropped on the maid the weeping dews. 

XII, 

A hillock rose beneath their shade, 
And thither Jane well knew the way ; 
Soft from her hand the flowers she laid, 
And strewed them where her Henry lay. 
Henry who oft had wiped her tear, 
Pressed to his heart, and called her dear. 

XIII. 
I heard her once repeat his name ; 
" Henry ! " she said with deep, deep sigh, 
And down her cheek a tear-drop came, 
Too pure for man's unhallowed eye ; 
An angel caught it, offering meet ! 
And bare it to the Mercy-seat. 



poems. 427 

THE WEEPING MAID. 

Evening, with thy shadows dun, 
Come and veil the gaudy sun ; 
From the idle gaze of day 
Wrap me in thy mantle gray : 
Mirth delights in Morning's shine ; 
I have tears to mix with thine, 
Tears a parent must not see : 
O let me then, sad Evening, weep with thee ! 

I love thy melancholy eye, 
Saddening earth, and saddening sky ; 
And the latest lingering beam, 
Dying on the mournful stream, 
O'er the pebbled shallow creeping ; 
And the dews for ever weeping ; 
And the shadows meeting fast ; 
And darkening wood, and moan of nighted blast : 

Of nighted blasts, by Ayr, that moan 
While I walk his banks alone, 
Asking every star above, 
What wrong 'tis for a maid to love ! 
Is there aught beneath the sun 
Fitter than to love the one 
Who returns my fondest sigh, 
Who for me would live or die ? 
Father ! did I make my heart ? 
Could I turn its love apart 



428 poems. 

From the youth, whose angel look 
All my ravished senses took ? 
Is it that I follow fate, 
I weep alone, and bear a parent's hate ? 

Leaping from the mountain's side, 
Down the slope the streamlets glide, 
Freely mingling, as they flow 
Through the flowery vales below. 
Freely does the ivy rest 
On the bough that suits it best. 
Happy lark ! that sings all day 
Notes for ever sweet and gay ; 
Happy that, when evening's come, 
It descendeth to its home ; 
To the bosom of its bride, 
By the grassy hillock side ! 
Happy nature's children all, 
Listening still to nature's call ; 
Ne'er a father's wrath to prove, 
Like me, because I cannot change my love ! 

Evening, with thy weeping dews, 
And with every mournful muse, 
Come, and in thy mantle gray 
Wrap me from the gaze of day ; 
Till my soul, from thraldom free, 
Gain the land of liberty ; 
Where no parent's heart is hard, 
Where no virgin's love is marr'd ; 



POEMS. 429 

Where no persecuted maid 
Seeks the night her tears to shade ; 
Where, before the Eternal's face, 
Freely souls that love embrace ; 
All their native rights regained, 
Every holy wish obtained ; 
Till my Maker set me free, 
O let me still, sad Evening, weep with thee ! 



TO AGNES. 

WRITTEN AT HAUGH-HOLM IN JULY 1821. 

One verse sweet Agnes from the muse besought, 
To give that verse the willing muses fought ; 
Apollo's self, to end the tuneful fight, 
Wisely decreed that each one verse should write. 
Successive thus the praying sisters sung — 
Kind heaven defend the fair from every wrong; 
Let rosy health with virtue still attend, 
Grant her, O heaven ! one all-unfailing friend ; 
Still may she drink of pleasure's purest streams, 
And gentlest angels prompt her golden dreams. 
Give her enough, unmixed with loveless care, 
Let whom she loves all manly virtues share ; 
O may they live, sleep, wake, in mutual love, 
And angels waft them to the climes above ! 



430 POEMS. 



TO MR DAYID MARR AND FRIENDS. 

WRITTEN AT AUCHMILLAN, DURING THE AUTHOR'S STAY THERE 
IN JULY 1821. 

Friends ! deep in my bosom living, 

Every hour made dearer still, 
If I e'er, your trust deceiving, 

Fail you in your hour of ill, 

On my sun-vexed temples never 

May the living zephyr blow ; 
Nor the glad-seen desert river, 

To my parch'd lips sweetly flow. 

Never may the lark of morrow 

Wake me to the breath of spring ; 

Nor Philomela's love-lorn sorrow, 
To my wakeful midnight sing. 

Never may the hawthorn's blossom 

Lead my evening path astray ; 
Ne'er the west's thought-courting bosom 

Feast my eye at close of day. 

May no friend, with heart-true sighing, 
O'er my grass-grown ashes weep ; 

No kindred bard, with sad notes dying, 
Lull my lonely ghost asleep. 



POEMS. 431 



ON RECEIVING THE WORKS OF SPENCER, « DE LE~ 
GIBUS HEBR^EORUM," &c* 

[Soon after the Author joined the Divinity Hall in 1822, he got the 
works of Spenser the poet, as he thought, from the Hall Library ; 
and on his entering his lodgings with them, said to his brother, with 
great joy, " I have got Spenser's works at last," and immediately 
sat down to read them ; but on opening the book, and casting his 
eye over its pages, he looked up and exclaimed, in sad disappoint- 
ment, " This is not Spenser the poet ;" and instantly shut it again, 
and wrote the following lines.] 

With care and cost and anxious hope, I sought 

For Spenser's Works, and Spencer's Works I got ; 

" Heaven bless the day ! " I cried, " heaven bless the hour, 

That guides my feet to Spenser's blissful bower ! 

Welcome, sweet bard ! with all thy fairy scene, 

Thy witching grots, and lawns for ever green. 

Long have I sought to trace thy flowery way, 

And hear the music of thy wild sweet lay. 

Much have I heard, how, by thy muse-taught mind, 

Britannia's rudest song was first refined ; 

How Milton's soul, with all its young desires, 

Drank of thy wells, glowed at thy hallowed fires ; 

And how the bard, to every season dear, 

The Scottish Thomson, in his early year, 

Would wander oft o'er thy rich painted scene, 

And study nature in ' The Faery Queen.' 

One precious hour thy fancy-page I turned ; 

And since, to see thee, all my bosom burned. 

* Instead of the Works of Spenser the poet, after a long search for the 
poet's works. 



432 poems. 

Welcome, sweet bard ! welcome thy mazy lay ! 
With thee I'll dream the happy hours away." 

With sweetest hope I oped the ancient book, 
And o'er the pages cast a filial look ; 
When, cruel fate ! no Muses there I saw ; 
But Cambridge Spencer's terms of Jewish law. 
What bitter tides a moment whelmed my soul, 
When I had hoped the sweetest streams to roll ! 



THE AFRICAN MAID. 

On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, 
Where to ocean the dark waves of Gambia haste, 

All-lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, 

Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste. 

A 'bark for Columbia hung far on the tide ; 

And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave ; 
Ah ! well might she gaze ! — in the ship's hollow side, 

Moaned her Zoopah in chains — in the chains of a slave. 

Like the statue of Sorrow forgetting to weep, 
Long dimly she followed the vanishing sail, 

Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep ; 
Then thus o'er the billows she uttered her wail : — 

" O my Zoopah ! come back ! wilt thou leave me to woe ? 

Come back, cruel ship ! and take Monia too ! 
Ah ! ye winds — wicked winds ! what fiend bids ye blow, 

To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view ? 



poems. 433 

" Has our set-nuptial night fled away like a dream — 
Must I never meet more the love-gleam of his eye ? 

Beneath yon broad palm that skirts Gambia's stream, 

Will he ne'er clasp my waist, and give sigh back for sigh ? 

il When the white foot of Day steps over the west, 
And Night wraps my love in the dark raving sea, 

No koonting * will sing to the hour of his rest, 
So far from his mother, his sister, and me ! 

" And what will the cruel men do with my dear ? 

Will giants devour him in dark bloody cove ? 
On his neck the hard clanking of chains shall he hear, 

Where my arms circled once with the softness of love ? 

i( Great Spirit ! why slumbered the wrath of thy clouds, 
When the savage white men dragged my Zoopah away ? 

Why lingered the panther far back in his woods ? 
Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey ? 

" Ah ! cruel white monsters ! plague poison their breath, 
And sleep never visit the place of their bed ! 

On their children and wives, on their life and their death, 
Abide still the curse of an African maid ! 

" When they travel the desert where thirsty winds blow, 
May no well of cool water spring forth to their tongue ; 

In war may they fall with their back to the foe, 
And leave not a son to awake their death-song ! 



A sort of guitar used by the negroes. 

2o 



434 POEMS. 

" Go Death ! kindly Death ! to my Zoopah away ; 

Leave life to the happy, and succour the slave ! 
Adown from this rock will I finish my day, 

And we'll meet in the land that looks back on the grave ! 

" There, unwearied, we'll hunt under skies cool and clear, 
Through groves ever fruitful, and meads ever green ; 

Where no ships of the foe on the ocean appear, 

Nor panther, nor serpent, nor white man is seen!" 

She ceased ; and a moment looked wild on the deep, 
But nor ship nor her Zoopah the waters displayed ; 

Then sighing, leaped down from the tall giddy steep, 
And the waves murmured over the African Maid I 



HELEN'S GRAVE. 

At morn a dew-bathed rose I pasty 

All lovely on its native stalk, 
Unmindful of the noon- day blast, 

That strewed it on my evening walk. 

So when the morn of life awoke, 

My hopes sat bright on Fancy's bloom j 

Unheedful of the death-aimed stroke, 
That laid them in my Helen's tomb. 

Watch there, my hopes, watch Helen sleep! 

Nor more with sweet-lipped Fancy rave y 
But with the long grass sigh and weep, 

At dewy eve, by Helen's grave 



POEMS. 435 

THE CROW STONE. 

A FRAGMENT. 

[The Crow Stone, from which this fragment takes its title, is 
a large whin stone, on a commanding height on Bonnytonmoor, about 
a mile and half east from Moorhouse : it was a favourite resort of the 
author's.] 

Far in a waste by sombre heath o'ergrown, 

Some reverend stones their hoary heads display ; 

From Nature's hand, in grand disorder thrown, 
They rest the wanderer on his desert way : 
One doth conspicuous all the rest survey, 

Which seem to whisper homage in the blast. 
By Heaven prepared the weary mortal's stay ; 

Here leaned the wanderer of the ages past ; 
The weary here shall lean while time and wandering last 

Hither, allured by nature wild and lone, 

Strayed, thoughtful, sad, a youth and hoary sage : 

Old Omar rested on the monarch-stone, 

An humbler seat became young Edgar's age.* 
'Twas their delight to read the desert-page 

That stills the passions, and exalts the mind ; 

On both their years bleak Fortune spent her rage, 

But spent in vain : to Heaven their souls resigned, 
Serene on earth they gazed, for God was ever-kind. 

* " Old Omar " was the author's intimate friend, Mr James Dobson, late 
surgeon, Eaglesham, and "young Edgar" was the author himself. They 
often " rested " together at the Crow Stone. 



4>36 POEMS. 

Far, on each side, the wasteful heaths extend, 

And nought of art the wandering gaze espies ; 
Blue, gloomy hills the distant prospects end, 

Whose heads exalted seem to prop the skies. 

Wide Silence reigns, save when the lonely cries 
Of desert fowl break on the timorous air ; 

Or when the lamb, where verdant hillocks rise, 
Salutes its dam, unknown to guilt and care. 
Such scenes the wanderers' souls were amply formed t© 
share. 

Long on these scenes the pensive Omar mused ; 

Then thus his words to Edgar were addrest : — 
" Heaven -favoured youth ! to early sorrow used, 

Early the desert was thy sweetest rest ; 

Early thou sought'st to be in thinking blest : 
When giddy youths, in thoughtless, joyless mirth, 

Wasted their days, and parents' hearts opprest, 
'Twas thine to ponder o'er the desert earth, 
Talk with thy youthful soul, and cherish deathless worth. 

u Ah ! how unwise the busy fluttering race, 

Who from themselves to wanton tumults fly ! 
Their reason lost in passion's thorny maze, 

No ray divine beams through their troubled sky ; 

Awhile they rave, and in their raving die. 
Ah ! there, my son, 's a waste of human woes ; 

There lions prowl, and filthy harpies cry ; 
There Syrens lull the soul to curst repose, 
But in this wild serene the soul is far from foes." 



poems. 437 

While thus engaged, the gathering shades of night 
O'er all the waste an awful grandeur threw ; 

Sol's lingering limbs suffused a dubious light, 
The shadowy mountains faded from the view, 
And orange tinged the clouds of deepest blue. 

The hoary fogs low o'er the desert brood ; 
No sporting gales their flimsy ranks pursue. 

Blest scene ! that banquets man with angel's food, 
Shunned by the bad alone, desired by all the good. 

Amid this dread and soul-subliming scene 

A giant form rose on the dusky vale, 
Moving with slow and awe-dispensing mien ; 

Thin bluish clouds its pensive visage vail, 

And far behind loose misty garments trail : 
And now before the wanderers stood confest 

Its awful face, cleared by a hallowed gale, 
A deeper stillness o'er the waste imprest ; 
Fear's paly chilling hand the wanderers' hearts opprest! 

" Fear not, my sons," the peaceful form began, 
" The Genius of the waste you now behold : 

Lonely I live, far from the ways of man, 

And with myself my righteous counsels hold, 
Unawed by greatness, uninclined by gold. 

Where'er on earth no cultured harvests spread, 
Nor art is seen, nor groves their leaves unfold, 

There sole I reign, on heavenly musing fed, 
Walk in the mists of eve, or the dark mountain tread. 



438 poems. 

" Fear not, my sons, my soul-composing looks 
There to the mind a friendly aid afford. 

Oft by my heights, or dark-green bordered brooks, 
The ancient worthies listening Heaven adored, 
Above themselves in holy rapture soared ; 

While opening skies smiled on my bleak abode, 
And mortal eyes half viewed a present Lord. 

Oft on my wastes commissioned angels trode, 
Conversed with mortal man, and charmed his sou] to God. 

" When Jacob sat by Jabbok's brook forlorn, 

And all a brother's fancied hatred feared, 
There on his soul fair dawned eternal morn, 

And, face to face, his Saviour- God appeared ; 

Soothed all his terrors, all his doubtings cleared. 
The awful seer, hid in my waste domains. 

Long to his God by piety endeared, 
Sealed from the guilty earth the obedient rains, 
Or poured heaven's kindest showers warm on the dying 
plains. 

****** 

******* 

" Saw Ham presumptuous tempt the marvellous road. 

Jacob he cursed, and Jacob's mighty Lord ! 
When, lo ! from heaven the wrathful hand of God, 

Immortal terrors on his armies showered : 

Earth yawned beneath, almighty thunders poured, 
And 'midst the deep, the godless crew o'ercast : 

Old ocean's angry billows on them roared ; 
All hell's grim powers howled in the avenging blast, 
And Saints, in bliss, stood awed at what in Egypt past." 



poems. 439 

MALLENA. 

A FRAGMENT, 

Dark was the cloud on the mouth of her cave, 

And the red meteor awfully flashing ; 
Loud roared the wind, and the sprite of the wave 

'Gainst the lone rock was mournfully dashing. 

She thought of her love, and she wept as she moaned, 

All the echoes of sorrow awaking : 
The cloud darker gloomed, and the main deeper groaned, 

And the heart of Mallena was breaking. 

But a star, lit in heaven by love's angel there, 
Threw a ray on the dark billows tossing ; 

It looked like a smile on the face of despair, 
But it looked where her lover was crossing. 

He stretched out his hand and she leaped to the boat, 

And again and again she embraced him : 
Entranced with the bliss, all her cares she forgot, 

And feared not the spirits that chased him. 

But loud roared the waves to the shriek of the blast, 

And the welkin with thunder was riven ; 
And down 'thwart the wild sky the stars glided fast, 

And the boat on the ocean was driven. 



440 



POEMS. 



OLD AGE.— A FRAGMENT. 
But should the caterer of death, disease, 
With aches, and shivering colds, and eating pains, 
Consumption pale, fever, and pestilence, 
And all of horrid name, which but to hear 
Doth sicken the heart, averted by some hand 
Unseen, fly o'er thee scathless ; yonder, look 
A little way before thee, in thy path, 
The path that must be trod, halting along, 
Bent down with years, and leaning on his staff, 
Walks feeble, helpless, hoary-headed Age. 
Start not : he waits for thee ; thou must approach 
And put his likeness on ; and O ! 'tis sad 
To live a lifeless life — a living death ! 



TO DARKNESS. 
Still margined with gold are the clouds of the west, 
The last steps of day on the mountains are seen : 
Haste, haste ye away to the isles of the blest I 
Let Darkness unmingled envelope this scene. 

In me, lorn and friendless, the fair eye of light 
But points out a laugh to a world of proud scorn ; 
Kind, kind to the wretched the shadows of night, 
But bitter and taunting the looks of the morn. 

Come, daughter of night, gloomy Darkness come forth ! 
Why tarry so long in the place of thy sleep ? 
Dost thou dwell in the cold icy halls of the north ? 
Or slumber the day in the caves of the deep ? 



POEMS. 441 

From thy dwelling arise ; thy wings thickly plume, 
And spread them abroad o'er the earth and the sky, 
Add thy star-veiling mantle of clouds to the gloom, 
And hide me from pity and pride's hated eye. 

Deep muffle the moon in the garment of night ; 
Roll back from the welkin the stars' twinkling sheen ; 
By fits from thy clouds send the red meteor's light, 
And let thy dread visage be awfully seen. 

Sweet, sweet is thy brow to the soul wed to grief! 
The broad idle gaze of the world, all in vain, 
Looks for mirth in my face : I ask not relief : 
Burst, my heart, when thou wilt, but never complain. 

As watches the wanderer for way-pointing fires, 
As the maid for her love by the moon's dewy light, 
As the sailor looks out for the land of his sires, 
So wait I the slow-coming footsteps of night. 

The notes of thy minstrel, the grave-watching owl, 
The wail of the wind through the sad piney grove, 
The voice of the torrent, the wave's distant growl, 
When shrouded in gloom, is the music I love. 

Oh ! when wilt thou take me, dark night, to thy place ? 
Where the sleep-frighting footsteps of day never tread ; 
Where no cold eye of pride scowls on misery's face ; 
Where death makes the weary and friendless a bed. j 



442 poems. 



TO MELANCHOLY. 

What gloom is this that gathers round my soul, 
And darkens all my mental hemisphere ? 
'Tis Melancholy in his blackest robes. 
Come then, dull power ! no longer I rebel. 
Ah ! I have struggled long beneath thy gloom ; 
And whiles my eye has pierced the severing clouds, 
And caught a glimpse of day that dwells on high, 
Beyond the tempest, thundering, and storm ; 
But now 'tis solid darkness all around. 
I fight no more ! dark power, cast wide thy arms? 
Possess my soul entire ! nor book, nor friend, 
Nor muse, I summon to repel thy force. 
Conduct me through thy paths of utter darkness ; 
Through wastes unmeasured by the step of man, 
Where nought is heard save demons yelling loud 
On midnight blast ; through graves and charnel-houses, 
Where dwells the owl, companion of the dead, 
And pours her wail on the wide ear of night ; 
Where guilty ghosts, sent back from Charon's shore, 
With hollow groanings, fright the wandering winds. 
Lead me to ruins, where the hungry wolf 
Looks forth, and grinds his teeth ; where serpents hiss, 
And all the venomed reptiles festering crawl. 
Take me to dungeons, where wide-mouthed despair 
For ever pictures, to the wretch, the rope 
Of death, the staring crowd, the mortal fall, 
The naked soul before the bar of God. 
Let widowed mothers, naked orphans, crowd 



poems. 443 

Before my mind, and let no hand be stretched 

To help them ; let me see them wasting down 

To death, or frozen to statues by the way. 

Let every fair whom falsehood has undone, 

Give all her wailings to my steady ear ; 

And let her tell that father, mother, friends, 

Have driven her out to want and fell reproach. 

Convey me to the straw where sickness pines 

'Mid rags, and filth, and cold, and poverty. 

And let me see the dear and only son, 

Unequal struggle with the king of death, 

While o'er him hangs the mother, lone in grief. 

And bring me to the cell where madness clanks 

His chains, gnashes his teeth, with demon eye 

Looks wild, and tells the saddest truth on earth, 

That lofty man has fallen below the brute. 

Let famine, earthquake, pestilence, and war, 

And every imp of woe, start up before me. 

And if thou mean'st, dread power ! to sum my woe, 

Conduct me to myself ; keep me at home ; 

Portray a body wasted with corroding pain, 

And wasted more with dark and angry thought ; 

A restless soul, a soul that sees what men 

Have done ; that kindled at the name of all 

The grand in mind ; felt in itself a spark 

Of heavenly fire, that taught it to despise 

The path that leads men to oblivion ; 

Beheld the fields, where Flora ever walks, 

Scattering profuse sweet flowers of every hue, 

Before light Fancy's easy roving step ; 

And hoped to cull a flower that might have bloomed 



444 poems. 

Immortal o'er my grave, and told I lived ; 

That fire now quenched, these fields shut from my mind. 

Portray me dark, dejected, flying thought ; 

Hope bidden farewell, and turned her awful back ; 

Where'er I lean, stabbed to the very quick, 

Each thought a pang of woe. Do all thou canst ; 

But, O dark power ! if thou hast mercy, hear ; 

'Tis midnight, and cold sweat bedrops my aching 

Temples, my weary heart tumultuous beats ; 

In mercy close my eye one hour in sleep. 



TO AGNELLA. 
Dark is my soul like dead of night ; 
Yet like the night that, now and then, 
Sees, piercing through the cloud, the light 
Of lovely star, soon hid again. 

Why hide so oft, my leading star ? 
Star of my life, Agnella ! rise ; 
Brighter to me, and lovelier far, 
Than she who walks the morning skies. 

Sweet is thy light, Agnella ! sweet 
Thy voice, like hymn of summer eve ; 
Thy smile, like angels when they meet, 
And tell of sinners that believe. 

So young, so kind, so innocent, 
Thy look so full of holiness ; 
To 'nighted earth sure thou wast sent, 
An earnest of celestial bliss. 



poems, 445 



Thy lovely, laughing, guileless eyes 
Are like a glimpse of heavenly light : 
Agnella ! fairest star, arise, 
Arise, and look away the night. 



THE CHILD. 
Lovely, laughing, guileless thing, 

Playing round the den of sorrow,* 
Lightly as the swallow's wing, 

Joyous as the lark of morrow. 

Busking now thy mimic-child, 

Forward now with go-cart prancing ; 
Pulling here the hedge-flower wild, 
There with honest Luath dancing. 

For the face of present pain, 
Ready is thy tear-drop seen ; 

Soon it falls — thou smilest again, 
As the tear had never been. 

Every moment new thy thought, 
Every thought as sweet as new ; 

Nothing lacking, fearing nought, 
Thinking man and woman true. 

Happy that thou knowest no more ! 

Truly happy only then ! 
Could I live my childhood o'er, 

My childhood I would live again. 

* See " The Course of Time," Book V 



446 POEMS. 

INVITATION. 

WRITTEN AT MOORHOUSE IN THE SPRING OF 1824. 

In the woodlands Love is singing, 

Health salutes the rosy day, 
Hill and dale with joy are ringing, 

Rise, my love, and come away ! 
Winter, with his snowy head, 
To his icy den has fled ; 
Frost severe, and tempest high, 
With the shivering monarch fly ; 
Bound in chains, with him they dwell, 
Far away in horrid cell. 
And gay Spring, in gown of green, 
Frisking o'er the lawn is seen — 
Frisking o'er the lawn and mountain, 
Bathing in the silver fountain, 
Singing in the arboured shade, 
And weeping tears of joy on every blade. 

With her forth the Graces sally, 

Painting flowers with nature's skill ; 

Lilies dwelling in the valley, 
Daisies shining on the hill ; 

And the primrose of the glen, 

Far retired from haunt of men ; 

And the violet, meek and mild, 

Stooping modest o'er the wild ; 

And a thousand flowers that grow, 
Where hermit-streams to reed of shepherd flow. 



POEMS. 447 

Mirth, on tiptoe ever dancing, 

Leaps before the leaf-clad queen ; 
Joy, with eye seraphic glancing, 
Tripping close behind is seen. 
And the goddess kind to thee, 
Lyda ! comes in sportive glee. 
Health, the maid for ever young, 
Trips the gamesome group among ; 
Health, that loves to see the Day 
Yoke his steeds on eastern way; 
Health, with cheek of rosy hue, 
Bathed in Morning's holy dew. 
Sighing Zephyr, too, attends, 
Where her flowery footpath wends ; 
And from every fanning wing, 
Dipt in Life's immortal spring — 
Spring that flows before the throne 
Of the always -ancient One — 
Sheds balmy life in viewless shower, 
Like oil of gladness, seen on herb and flower. 

Hark ! the sons of harmony 

Sing the dirge of Winter's reign; 
Sing a song of jubilee 

To the Spring returned again. 
Thrush and blackbird, in the grove, 
Tune their harps to notes of love ; 
Tune their harps to Zephyr's sigh, 
And the streamlet murmuring by ; 
And the simple linnet too, 
With beak wet in silver-dew, 



448 poems. 

From the poplar's lofty pride, 
To its half-consenting bride 
Sings a song as soft and clear 
As Ausonia's daughters hear, 
When the lovesick serenade 
In their ravished ear is made. 
Deep in bosom of the wood 
The stockdove coos in amorous mood; 
Warbling high in heaven, hark 
How the silver-throated lark, 
Hovering on the roseate cloud, 
Anthems sings so sweet, so loud ! 
From the dewy hillock's side 
Joyous lists his honest bride, 
Joyous lists, or flits on high 
To meet her lover in the sky ; 
And the cuckoo, voice of spring, 
Surest pledge of sunshine day, 
Ever fanning with his wing 

Flora on her lilied way, 
Sends o'er mountain, vale, and grot, 
His never-changing, ever-pleasing note. 

Lyda ! rise and come away ; 

Nature smiles and calls for thee. 
Wilt thou choose the garden gay, 

Or the wilderness with me, 
Far remote from busy life, 
And the angry growl of strife, 
And from fashion's rude control, 
And the tongue of slander foul - T 



poems. 449 

Where the rillet travels through 
Waste of brown and sombre hue ; 
Where the canach's silken hair 
Lonely waves on desert-air ; 
Where the echo of the glen 
Ne'er repeats the din of men ; 
And the hare in safety roves, 
And the plover sings his loves. 
Yes, my Lyda, we will go, 
Where the desert-streamlets flow, 
To the scenes where love is free, 
To the scenes all pure like thee ; 
Nought but holy eyes above, 
Looking, smiling on our love. 
Lyda ! there, thy eye to me 
May look all its ecstasy ; 
And thy swelling bosom there, 
As the virgin lily fair, 
Prest to mine, in free caress, 
May heave forth all its paradise of bliss. 

'Tis morn, my love, 'tis morn of Spring, 

O'er the dew the roe is bounding; 
Hark ! a thousand voices sing, 

Hark ! Aurora's horn is sounding ; 
And the glorious god of day 
Starts upon his eastern way, 
And his golden ringlets fly 
Over vale and mountain high ; 
Over steepy rock and hill, 
Loud cascade and gentle rill, 

2p 



450 POEMS. 

Leafy wood and shining lake, 
Flowery mead and flowery brake ; 
Over silent wilderness, 
Where modest Love retires to feel his bliss. 
In the woodlands love is singing ; 

Health salutes the rosy day ; 
Hill and dale with joy are ringing, 
Rise, my love, and come away ! 



LIBERTY. 

A FRAGMENT. 



[This Fragment, which is obviously the commencement of a poem on 
Liberty, is peculiarly interesting in one respect ; it evidently con- 
tains the germ of " The Course of Time." On this account, 
though several verses have been transferred from it to that poem, 
it has been thought proper to insert it here entire. It could 
not be written before 1824, as one of the sheets of the original 
manuscript shows, by its water-mark, that it was made that year. 
It was probably written in the summer of 1824, and was, no doubt, 
the last piece that the Author attempted before he began to write 
" The Course of Time." The verses and parts of verses that have 
been transferred from it to that poem are printed in italics.] 

Awake, old harp ! harp of the North, awake ! 

And sing to Liberty a song so sweet, 

So deep, that from the icy hall where dwells 

Fell Boreas, to where the hermit-cross 

Looks lonely down on India's wasteful deep, 

The patriot soul may hear, and burn for deeds 

Of glory, deeds of mercy to mankind. 

Wake, ancient harp ! a chord so dread, so strong, 



POEMS. 451 

That Slavery, of fiends the guiltiest fiend, 

Trembling and fast from earth may fly, and gnash 

His teeth deep in his hellish citadel. 

Breathe all thy melody, immortal harp! 

The ear of Liberty demands a strain 

As lofty, and harmonious, and pure, 

As that of sainted bards and angels sung, 

Which wakes the echoes of Eternity, 

At midnight, solemn hour ! when spirits meet, 
And on the destiny of man converse, 
A bard, high on Ben Lomond's cloud-walked brow, 
Of holy musing full, and full of song, 
Wander'd ; for oft, by inspiration led, 
At gloaming sad, deep night, or wake of dawn, 
By echoing cave, dark wood, or haunted glen, 
The sacred minstrel strays, and harpings hears 
Angelical ; and visions sees, that wrap 
His tranced soul in ecstasy complete. 
The lay that shameless venal poets sing 
To flattered vanity, untaught — untaught 
The trill that soft and sickly woos the ear 
Of love, this youthful bard immaculate, 
By nature's hand anointed, strung the lyre 
To Liberty alone ; spontaneous flowed 
His numbers, rough, majestic, lofty, wild, 
As Albion's own mountains, as her sons 
Unfettered, and as wintry torrent's voice 
Loud mingled with the hollow desert blast, 
And cadence of the wave, harmonious flowed. 



452 poems. 

Careless of fortune, and of idiot fame, 
That oft, unnaturally turning, whom 
She nursed herself devours, nightly he stood, 
To memory rehearsing glorious acts 
Of patriots done ; or gave his raptured ear 
To sweet- lipped hope, that with his golden wings, 
The mists that shroud futurity, aside 
Swept, to his eye revealing battles fought, 
For freedom fought and won ; on his own sword 
Ambition fallen ; and, clanking in his chains, 
Slavery, disguised eternally in cells 
Of hopeless depth ; and chief, that night, foresaw, 
Dawning foresaw, some great event and good, 
Intent to weave it in immortal verse. 
Fit was the time for holy vision, fit 
The place ; cinctured in clouds, in highest heaven, 
Amid her constellations walked the moon, 
And over lake, and wood, and mountain, threw 
Her silver light ; watching the steps of night, 
Innumerous, from the everlasting towers, 
The stars looked out ; and on Ben Nevis' head, 
Proud chief of Scotia's hills, and dwelling cold 
Of snows, did lean the garments of the mist ; 
And far and near, by promontory steep, 
Or threatening cliff, or forest's horrid shade, 
Long winding swamp, or fearful deep ravine, 
Gleamed tremulous, through all the wild forlorn, 
Like beauty's welcome eye in this dim world, 
The sounding frith, and leaping torrent white, 
And shapeless lake, and stream, and river vast, 



poems. 453 

Stooping majestically to the arms 
Of ocean, spreading wide his watery breast, 
For ever heaving to the lovely mobn. 
Silvered with starry radiance sailed the cloud, 
Over Ben Lomond's shoulders slowly sailed 
On drowsy Zephyr's wing ; his awful head, 
In dread serenity uplifted high, 
Around dispensed a holy influence, 
Seeming so pure that nought but angel's foot, 
Or saint's elect of God, might venture there 
To walk. Oft had the bard, the youthful bard, 
Beheld, with sacred awe, the moonbeam lean 
Upon this mount ; but never, till this night, 
Had felt such pious reverence, had felt 
Within him move such inspiration high. 
Trembling he shook, as she of Delphi's shrine, 
When spoke the oracle renowned, renowned 
Though erring oft ; and turning up his eye, 
That eager sought to pierce futurity, 
Thus fervently to the Eternal prayed : 
" Ancient of Days" 



THE END. 



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